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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441853">fickle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo'>shannedo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Child Neglect, Disabled Character, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:34:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441853</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the space of a year, Qrow has lost his best friend, lost his grip on his alcohol problem, and landed himself with a conviction for common assault on his sparkling-new rap sheet. Most people who know him are kind of surprised it took him twenty-nine years to get one.</p><p>Now subjected to the torment of court-appointed group therapy, Qrow is confronted with his polar opposite - Clover Ebi, a veteran of the Great War who lost a leg to an IED but still has an untouched sense of optimism that is enough to turn Qrow's stomach. The worst part is, Qrow can't even bring himself to hate him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somewhere between stuffing a slice of toast into Ruby’s mouth and preventing Yang from using her spoon as a cheerio-launcher, Tai had managed to get a tie around his neck.</p><p>Quite the feat, Qrow thought sleepily, as he glugged a mug of lukewarm coffee.</p><p>“Okay, so Ruby’s class starts at-“</p><p>“Midday, yah,” Qrow said. He helped said four-year-old loosen the lid on the Nutella jar.</p><p>His brother-in-law tugged his jacket on, double checked his shirt looked appropriately un-creased and that his shoelaces were in fact tied. The way he kept running a hand through his hair had turned the golden locks into a bird’s nest, though. “Right. And her nursery teacher is Mrs Belladonna-“ he stopped mid-sentence to snatch a flying cheerio out of the air and give his older daughter a withering glare.</p><p>Yang did her best to look scolded, but Qrow could tell by the way she was pressing her lips into a thin line that she was holding back her snickers.</p><p>Ruby had forgone spreading the Nutella on her toast and was instead pulling out fistfuls to shove directly into her mouth. Unphased, Qrow pressed a butter knife into her pudgy, chocolate-y fist and raised an eyebrow at her.</p><p>“And Mrs Belladonna’s number is on the fridge. Gotcha.”</p><p>Tai did the routine pat down of his pockets – phone, keys, wallet. “And if you need <em>anything-“</em></p><p>“You’re a phone call away. Yeah, yeah, I know,” Qrow waved him off, resisting the urge to point out that he <em>had </em>played babysitter before. Tai was just stressed. And he deserved to be. First day back at work after… well, everything. It was never going to be easy. Instead of telling Tai to stop nagging him, Qrow turned the arched eyebrow of disapproval on Yang. “Bag packed? Shoes on?”</p><p>“Yup aaaaaannnnddd yup,” Yang said around the last mouthful of cheerios.</p><p>Tai nodded, looking more like he’d ran a marathon than just gotten himself and Yang ready for the school day. That too was understandable though, as Yang was – in the nicest possible way – <em>hard work. </em>“Teeth brushing time, then, Sunny.”</p><p>Yang’s subsequent eye roll had entirely too much attitude for a six-year-old, but she pushed off from her seat at the kitchen table anyway and slumped off to the bathroom.</p><p>As for Ruby, her toast looked more like a work of modern art than a breakfast food, but at least she wasn’t stuffing the spread directly into her face anymore.</p><p>Tai huffed out a breath. “How do I look?” he asked Qrow.</p><p>Qrow took in his leather shoes, polished to gleam, neatly ironed shirt and trousers, knotted tie. “Like a teacher,” Qrow said with a measured nod. Tai nodded back. “Ah, wait,” Qrow said, and leaned up over the kitchen table to clumsily flatten Tai’s hair. “Better.”</p><p>“Thanks, man.”</p><p>When Yang was back, Tai helped her shuck on her jacket and handed her the bright yellow schoolbag. “You know you pick up Ruby at three, right?” Tai didn’t even pause for Qrow’s beleaguered nod. “Good. Okay.”</p><p>“You’ll be fine, Tai,” Qrow said. Because he needed to hear it.</p><p>Tai blustered out a breath. “Yeah. I can do this.” He <em>had </em>been doing it for years. He just needed the confidence boost of a good first day back. He nodded to himself, then looked struck by a thought. “You have your first session today, right?”</p><p>Qrow suppressed an eye roll. Tai already accused him of teaching Yang his <em>attitude. </em>“Yah,” he said, dryly. “Before my shift.”</p><p>“Okay, good, today will go great. For everyone,” Qrow honestly wasn’t sure who Tai was talking to at this point.</p><p>Ruby already looked like she was having a great day, in all fairness.</p><p>Tai ducked and kissed his younger daughter on the head, avoiding the chocolate mess that Qrow was <em>so</em> looking forward to cleaning up. “See you later, Rosy,” he said, and Qrow did him the kindness of not mentioning the thick emotion in his voice.</p><p>Ruby looked up and offered him her ear-to-ear grin. “Bye, Dad!”</p><p>Tai smiled right back at her, and then nodded at Qrow. “See you later, Qrow.”</p><p>“Later, Tai,” Qrow itched idly at the side of his face.</p><p><em>“Bye!” </em>Yang yelled in the tone that indicated she was very bored of this drawn-out goodbye.</p><p>Qrow snickered and watched Tai bundle Yang out the doorway with a huff.</p><p>He looked at Ruby. Ruby looked at him.</p><p>He stuck his finger in the Nutella jar and then licked it clean. “Okay,” he conceded, “that’s pretty good.”</p><p>Ruby’s answering laugh was triumphant.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The morning consisted of trying to find ways to entertain Ruby, cleaning up the subsequent messes, and trying to squeeze in some housework while she was occupied with her favourite cartoon. Qrow heard the show’s annoying, jingling theme song in his sleep and had caught Tai singing it in the shower before.</p><p>After the vacuuming was done and Ruby had covered her hands in felt tip pen, Qrow wiped her down and packed her up for nursery.</p><p>Her classroom was in a cosy little building set off to the side of Yang’s school in the next neighbourhood. The walk only took ten minutes but meant crossing from their humble street into the area where all the houses had iron gates over the long driveways, and manicured bushes obstructing the stately manor houses from view. It never failed to make Qrow feel distinctly out of place, but Ruby was oblivious, and rushed ahead the whole way, jabbering excitedly about how she wanted to see Yang and her friends in the playground while they were on lunch. “Ruby! Wait up!” Qrow called after her, but black pigtails and a ladybird print backpack bounced on with no sign of slowing down.</p><p>That was when a car swerved round the corner at speed.</p><p>Qrow’s heart seized in his chest. His stomach wrenched. He <em>leapt </em>after Ruby, grabbing her arm, and yanking her away from the curb. The car rushed past, fast enough to blow Ruby’s hair back from her face.</p><p>The little girl yelped, but Qrow didn’t notice, too busy yelling <em>“Hey!” </em>after the ostentatious silver four-by-four.</p><p>The car didn’t slow, though.</p><p>Instead, Qrow looked down at Ruby, and immediately dropped her arm, something panging in a horrid and wounded place in his chest. Ruby was looking up at him with those silvery eyes as wide as dinner plates, her bottom lip trembling.</p><p>Qrow dropped to one knee on the sidewalk and took a hold of her by the shoulder, his grip firmer than it probably needed to be, but his heart was battering against his ribcage. “You don’t <em>ever </em>do that, okay? You do <em>not </em>run away next to a road, not from me, not from Dad, not from anyone,” he said firmly. Ruby’s bottom lip quivered, moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes, but she nodded. “Okay. Good.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small, and she looked down at her ladybird print shoes.</p><p>“Come here,” Qrow roped her into a hug, and prayed the steady thud of her heartbeat might quiet his own. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed. Willed the quivering in his hands to cease. “I love you. Let’s go.”</p><p>The rest of the journey to school was quiet, Ruby never straying further than a few feet from his side, and the rhythmic sound of their footfalls on the cement was enough to slow his pulse.</p><p>When they reached the playground, Ruby shot him a questioning look, fear lingering in her eyes and he nodded. The smile she pulled out helped melt away some of the trepidation they were both feeling, and she hugged his leg, throwing a “Bye, Uncle Qrow!” over her shoulder as she ran off. He felt the tension in his chest ease a little as he watched her join Yang and her friends as they batted a ball back and forth.</p><p>“Bye, kiddo,” he called after her, rubbing an absent-minded hand over an aching spot on his sternum. His breath was coming easier now, his panic melting away as he watched both his nieces, healthy and whole, playing with their friends. But something out of the corner of his eye sparkled, and he ripped his gaze away to what had captured his attention.</p><p>In the no parking zone before the school gates, a large, silver monstrosity of a car sat with the engine still running.</p><p>A woman – silver-blonde haired with lines around her mouth – watched as a small boy walked off into the playground. <em>Watched </em>was perhaps the wrong word because her gaze looked unfocussed and glassy. She swayed on the spot and took a step. A steadying step.</p><p>Such a minute detail, he thought he might not have caught it if it hadn’t been for the immediate pang of recognition.</p><p>On the turn of a dime, Qrow’s blood was <em>boiling.</em></p><p>“Hey,” he snapped, loud and clear, the fury in his voice sounding alien even to his ears.</p><p>The woman turned her head.</p><p>“Hey, yeah, I’m talking to you,” he was striding over now, his feet moving of their own accord, rage blazing and curling around him like a devil on his back. White hot pincers sunk deep into his chest, and his jaw felt like a bear trap sprung shut.</p><p>A flash of fear and recognition crossed icy eyes, and the woman retreated to her car, yanking the heavy door shut behind her. Somewhere behind the fog of rage, Qrow was distantly surprised she’d had the dexterity on her feet to manage that without stumbling.</p><p>“Hey!” he called after her, loud enough to penetrate the thick glass windows, but the engine was roaring to life, and the other parents at the drop off were staring at him.</p><p>He stopped where he stood and tightened his fists at his sides. He breathed in. One. Two. Three. Four.</p><p>He held his breath until his lungs were screaming in protest, fit to burst.</p><p>
  <em>“Hate the world on your own time, Qrow. Not when you’re raising my kids.”</em>
</p><p>The exhale was a shuddering, wounded thing.</p><p>He ignored the stares that he knew were coming from behind expensive sunglasses. He already knew what these people thought of him. They were already whispering behind their hands.</p><p>With a single, steadying breath, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stalked off in the direction of home.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The house was always too quiet on his own.</p><p>The eerily discarded piles of toys brought to mind days spent going back and forward to the hospital.</p><p>The empty hook on the coat stand that they still didn’t use.</p><p>He kicked his shoes off at the bottom of the stairs and then trudged upwards, shutting his bedroom door behind him with a soft click. His room was the smallest of the three in the house but had enough space for what little he owned at this point. A double bed was pressed into one corner of the room, with deep grey covers lying in an unmade heap at the foot. He had a dresser and a desk, as battered and scratched as the day he picked them up from the thrift store, and the rickety chair from the dining table that had one short leg. In the corner, his guitar – his only possession worth any significant sum of money – was gathering dust. He tried not to look at it too often.</p><p>His jacket landed in a heap on the bed and he flopped down at his desk, pulling his aging, whirring laptop towards him.</p><p>He sighed. Punched in the passwords for his bank account, opened a spreadsheet, and got to work.</p><p>Before all this, he’d never been much use at budgeting and being responsible with his cash. As long as he made rent and kept enough money back to fill his belly with <em>something, </em>he was wont to blow the rest. New clothes, tattoos, piercings, whatever. Then, everything had went to shit and rent became helping Tai with mortgage repayments and the drinking was paid for before anything else.</p><p>And <em>then.</em></p><p>Well.</p><p>The drinking had stopped. But the legal fees and payments to the City of Vale more than made up for that gap in his expenditures.</p><p>So now, he was learning budgeting because he was bad with money, and money was tight.</p><p>And sadly, the spreadsheet yielded no magical answers for him.</p><p>He <em>did </em>have an extra ten bucks for fuel, though. So that was… something.</p><p>With depressing numbers punched in to depressing spreadsheets, Qrow let out a blustering breath and opened his emails. He sifted through junk mail and sale notifications until he found the email he wanted, headered with the seal of the City of Vale that had fast become a loathsome sight for him.</p><p>It was from Ozpin again (no first name, just signed Ozpin. Or Oz, if it was Casual Friday) who he had met face to face all of two times, but who was still his appointed social worker. The email detailed the how’s, where’s and when’s of his first court-appointed group therapy session.</p><p>Oh, yeah, right. Legal fees, fines, court-mandated therapy. Because nowadays he had a shiny conviction on his brand-new criminal record.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Summer. If you could see me now.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Later that afternoon, Qrow pulled his clunky old banger of a car into a large and mostly empty car park. His car bumped and rolled over cracks in the concrete, and patches of weeds, and Qrow was somewhat pleased to see that the only parking metre in sight had been busted to pieces a long time ago.</p><p>The community centre was in about the same state of disrepair, looking like it had been given up on sometime around the advent of the telephone.</p><p>After Qrow had pulled on his handbrake, he looked up at the building and grimaced. Dingy windows, sun-faded posters for community productions, an imposing concrete high rise that closer resembled a prison than a shared space for an underprivileged community. It was the kind of architecture – cheap and uncheerful – that the Kingdom of Vale would no doubt condemn and rip down as soon as they could afford to, throwing up something much prettier and more <em>on brand </em>in its wake. Because even during a global recession following the end of a war that spanned four continents, their elected officials had all the right priorities.</p><p>He repressed a shudder and got out of the car.</p><p>Following strip-lit hallways and vague signposting was all too reminiscent of the horror games that made Tai jump behind the sofa, so Qrow wasn’t too upset when he found Room 137. The off-white linoleum flooring was peeling up in some places, and the door creaked horrifically on its hinges, but if the circle of rickety folding chairs in the centre of the room was anything to go by, he’d found the right place.</p><p>A couple of people had already taken seats, staggered around the circle, either in assigned seats or just desperate not to make conversation. The guy with the clipboard and a fretful expression on his face seemed to be the one in charge, though, so Qrow slouched his way over to him.</p><p>The man’s gigantic frame made the folding chair and the clipboard look comically undersized, his biro a toothpick in his gloved hand as he hunched over the sheaf of papers with curling edges. Upon Qrow’s approaching footsteps, he looked up, and something akin to blessed relief welled in his eyes. “Mister… Branwen?” he asked, his voice as deep as a thunderclap.</p><p>Qrow arched one eyebrow. “Yah?”</p><p>The large man let out a blustering sigh. “Thank the gods,” he murmured, and scored something off his list.</p><p>Qrow shifted uneasily to his other foot, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. “What?” he asked, looking around at the still half empty room, “Am I late?”</p><p>“No! No!” the man was quick to reply. “Just…” he rubbed at the back of his neck with his gloved hand, “Group members of your… <em>sort</em> tend to be no-shows more often than not. And that, well, gets me in trouble.”</p><p>With a “hmph,” Qrow looked around and chose a seat, purposely going for the one with two empty chairs on either side. He suddenly felt <em>very </em>dumb that he was apparently the first person in history to actually show up for court-appointed group therapy.</p><p>He took great interest in his fingernails as he waited for the rest of the attendees to appear and the session to start.</p><p>Just after four o’clock, the chairs were mostly full and the counsellor got to his feet, clearing his throat. A lumbering hulk of a man, it didn’t take him long to garner everyone’s attention.</p><p>No sooner had he introduced himself as <em>James Ironwood, but you can call me Jim, </em>than a latecomer was dashing in through the door.</p><p>“Sorry, sir!” the guy was saying in a cheery tone that simply did not fit his surroundings. He was tall, impossibly broad, and his hair was shorn short on the sides, but the top had grown out into fluffy curls. He quickly found the seat that had been left open for him, somewhere across from Qrow in the circle, and stuffed a heavy-looking book bag under it. He took his seat with immaculate posture, like he was going to hang on every word said. <em>Boy scout, </em>Qrow’s brain supplied helpfully<em>.</em> “One of my classes overran.”</p><p>James-Ironwood-but-you-can-call-me-Jim smiled jovially at the younger man and shook his head. “Not a problem at all, Clover. And please, call me Jim,” he said.</p><p>Qrow nearly choked on the bubble of laughter that rose in his throat, and quickly disguised it as a cough when people turned to look.</p><p>One such person was the latecomer, and Qrow was struck by the realisation of how stupidly <em>green </em>his eyes were.</p><p>You-can-call-me-Jim didn’t seem to notice, however, and resumed his opening prattle. “As I was saying, it’s a pleasure to welcome you all to this session at Mountain Glenn Community Centre. I hope you will all find today’s group as helpful and enlightening as I find the role of leading it,” his smile was unsure, and he did a little nod. “I think a good place to start would be by welcoming our newcomers.”</p><p>It was all Qrow could do to bite back a burgeoning groan. <em>Oh, come on.</em></p><p>The man seized his clipboard back up with a flourish, like he felt safer hiding behind it, and called a name. The woman answering him was a little younger than Qrow and smiled as she relayed her name and what she hoped to achieve in the sessions.</p><p>“That’s good to hear. We can do our absolute best,” the man said with sickening enthusiasm, and then turned his gaze on Qrow, who shrunk away like a wilting flower. “Mister Qrow Branwen?”</p><p>Qrow winced. “Uh, yeah. That’s me, Qrow,” he gave a swipe of a hand in lieu of a wave. Wished his hair was still longer, so he could hide behind it. “And uh, what do I want? Um. Therapy? I guess.”</p><p>Call-me-Jim gave a half-hearted chuckle at that, but then stopped himself when Qrow didn’t laugh. “Oh, you’re not joking- no, I mean, something a little more specific,” he cleared his throat. “What – specifically – would you like to gain from these sessions?”</p><p>Qrow could feel every vertebra in his back contracting as he avoided people’s eyes. “Uh,” his fight-or-flight instinct was ramping up into overdrive, and his palms gleaned with a thin sheen of sweat. “Um. Look. I don’t know, man. I’m kinda just here because I have to be.”</p><p>James wasn’t letting up that easily. “Well, I think to receive some benefit from this activity, you have to <em>believe </em>in its purpose, Qrow,” he said.</p><p>Qrow pressed down on the urge to rile at the familiar use of his name. Like this guy knew him <em>at all. </em>Like he would even be here if the state wasn’t dangling community service or jail time or even child protective services over his head as the alternative. “Look, I’m not here for a cure to all my woes, because that is not even possible. So how about we just get on with it? What do we do, talk about our feelings? Mope about how bitterly unfair life is? Well, let’s do it, ‘cause I’m stuck here either way, pal.” The words came out a little sharper than he’d intended if the look on James’ face – like he’d just been slapped – was anything to go by.</p><p>“Therapy is <em>not </em>about <em>moping, </em>Qrow,” he said, and obviously <em>that </em>had touched a nerve.</p><p><em>Good, </em>‘cause Qrow was all nerves these days. “Well, what is it about?” he asked, temper flaring now, his face giving off heat as everyone in the circle locked eyes on him. He was itching under the gazes of the ten-or-so other people, fiddling with a hole in his jeans, sitting on his other hand so it would stop quivering. What he wouldn’t do for a stiff drink right now. He wanted to scream; <em>can we just get on with it?</em> “’Cause where I’m sitting, life is just a series of unfair, miserable bullshit and no amount of sitting around feeling sorry for yourself is gonna solve that.”</p><p>Someone scoffed, and Qrow looked up, sharply. It was the young guy who had run in late, and those <em>fucking </em>green eyes were looking back at him, his twisted into the portrait of disbelief.</p><p>“You got a problem with that, boy scout?” Qrow bit out.</p><p>“No,” the young man – Clover – said, but the twist at the corner of his mouth said that he very much did have a problem with that. “I just think cynicism is a pretty interesting way of absolving yourself of all responsibility.”</p><p>Okay, who the <em>fuck </em>was this guy? Qrow glowered at him, his voice quavering as he replied, “Not cynicism. Realism.” The young man raised an eyebrow. “What, you think if we all just talked about our feelings a bit more, bad things would stop happening to good people? Do you think we’d all sit down around a campfire and sing kumbaya?”</p><p>The man leaned forward then, and Qrow caught the way the cuff of his jeans shifted. Was suddenly <em>very </em>aware of the metallic joint in place of his right ankle, peeking out between turned up jeans and a battered pair of sneakers. Oh, <em>come on. </em>The grown-out crew cut, the poker-straight posture, the casual use of the word <em>sir </em>of all things, it all screamed Great War veteran. “Maybe not,” the man said, “I just think you’re depriving yourself of the chance to recover. With your brand of <em>realism </em>as you call it, I know I never could have learned to walk again. Life sucks, and bad things happen to good people, so why bother, right?” He sat back, having said his piece.</p><p>Qrow leaned back, his cheeks blazing.</p><p>And promptly shut the fuck up for the rest of the session.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Really hope you guys enjoyed Ch1! As of posting this, I have ~30k words written (maybe 2/3 of the story), but have just hit a massive block, so I'm starting to post with the hope that some feedback will knock something loose! This is the first time I've ever written something this long, so please forgive any continuity issues and very-loose-plotting.</p><p>Please let me know what you think! A kudos is great but a comment would be even better! Tell me what you liked, what you hated, where you hope this will go. It's all much appreciated &lt;3</p><p>Next chapter will be next Sunday (21st) and just a reminder that ratings/tags are subject to change! Chapters will be headered with appropriate warnings</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow was still licking his wounds by the time he made it to the Witchery. He dumped his jacket in the staff room and made his way out the front, rolling up his shirt sleeves and pushing his hair back out of his eyes. Anything to keep his hands and mind busy.</p><p>They weren’t overly busy today – they never were on a Monday afternoon – but it would pick up as five o’clock turned to six and the office drones secured their freedom for the evening. Small groups of workers were likely to squeeze in a pint or two in a corner booth before bemoaning returning home to nagging spouses or overbearing partners. The more hardcore would hang around for longer and use their fourth pint from the tap to wash down a plate of nachos heaped with heart disease. Those ones normally had the jobs they hated with a passion, and either had a divorce or were on the road to getting one, but they were some of Qrow’s favourites. The kind of people who made his disposition look cheerful and full of <em>joy de vivre. </em>Not that he would ever tell them that the reason he was generous with them was because they made him feel slightly better about his own shitty lot. The only ones that Qrow felt any real sympathy for were the people with slack gazes, wandering minds, and a tendency to jump off their barstool anytime the bell at the front door rang. The ones who might be sitting in a bar in Vale now, but in their heads, they were still hiding in a ditch in Anima, with bullets and bombs flying overhead. Those people just made Qrow feel sad, and he was always careful to make sure they added a hefty veteran’s discount to their tabs, regardless of whether their IDs bore the flag of Vale, Vacuo, Mistral, or Atlas.</p><p>Before he’d even had the chance to clear some dirty glasses from the regulars off the bar top, Glynda spotted him through the window in her office. She made her way through the main bar over to him and helped him stack dirty glasses, not giving him a moment to catch his breath.</p><p>“Qrow,” she said, and glanced at her watch, “Weirdly on-time.”</p><p>“Had my first session,” he grumbled, and sluiced beer foam out of the bottom of pint glasses in the sink.</p><p>“Ah,” Glynda said, in a tone that suggested to him that she’d kind of known that all along. “Well, how was it?”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at her and cocked his head to one side. “It was court-mandated group therapy, Glyn. How do you think it went?”</p><p>A regular caught Glynda’s eye and gave a small wave, so as not to interrupt their conversation, and Glynda gave the answering nod and pulled a glass from the racks above the bar. For as many years as Qrow had done this job, he suspected he’d need to do it for many more before he could pull a pint like Glynda could and get the perfect head on it without wasting too much in cutting off the foam. She wasn’t what a lot of people expected in the kind of person who owns a bar – pencil skirt, buttoned up blouse, carefully tousled hair – but she’d earned the respect of Vale through fair prices, quality service and a resolve to put people out on their asses when needs be. “I don’t know,” she said, “I don’t think it’s really your scene.”</p><p>“It’s <em>not-“</em></p><p>“The Qrow Branwen I know has never spoken an honest word about his feelings in his life,” she said, and slid the pint down the bar with ease. Okay. <em>Cold.</em></p><p>Qrow sighed. She knew him too well not to see straight through his deflections and pacifications. “I bitched and moaned about how bitterly unfair life is and how there’s nothing anyone can do to change that to a guy who got his leg blown off in the war,” he said, the very memory enough to make his insides squirm.</p><p>That made Glynda pause. She turned forest green eyes on him and gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Really, Qrow?”</p><p>“Yeah, exactly,” he said, through gritted teeth.</p><p>Glynda tapped away at the cash register with a manicured fingernail. “I’m glad you’re delving into your limitless reserves of charm, tact and charisma to navigate such uncertain waters,” she said, dry as Vacuo on a summer’s day.</p><p>Qrow rolled his eyes. “Yeah, s’what makes me such a good barman, remember?”</p><p>Glynda gave a considering nod. “Well, it’s definitely not your accounting skills, because the books are a mess,” she said, and passed some change over to the waiting regular. Even leaning against a chipped and stained bar top older than Qrow, she maintained a ridiculous level of dignity and poise, gazing at him over oval-lensed glasses.</p><p>Qrow, by comparison, slouched. The scent of stale beer amongst other delicacies made his stomach churn, and he became faintly aware of the fact that he hadn’t sat down and had something to eat since breakfast. “You sure that’s not more to do with a global recession than my skills with a calculator?” he asked.</p><p>She rolled her eyes at him, “You don’t use a calculator, Qrow,” she said, “but yes, I was being facetious. Try it some time. It’s called humour.”</p><p>Qrow rolled his eyes, but in good nature this time. “My whole <em>life </em>is a comedy, Glyn. If you didn’t laugh, you’d cry.”</p><p>“Aww, hold on a moment. I’m sure I’ve got a violin somewhere in the back,” Glynda cooed at him, saccharinely false. She patted his hollow cheek with a surprisingly soft hand. “Life is a bitch, my boy. There’s some therapy for you.”</p><p>His answering smile was wry, and he pushed himself up from his slouched position against the bar. He plucked a packet of salted peanuts out from underneath and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at her office. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll go work on those books. Maybe figure out more profound truths of life in the process.”</p><p>She nodded, and glanced out at the sparsely populated bar, and Qrow saw the frown lines that lingered between her brow and at the corners of her mouth reappear. “Go on, I think I can just about manage this wild crowd on my own,” she said. “But if you hatch any grand schemes to make yourself a millionaire in there then I’d expect you to share.”</p><p>Qrow scoffed as he flicked a peanut upwards and caught it neatly in his mouth. “Yeah, right. It’s math, not magic.”</p><p>“Well, at least magic up a way to pay off my business loans. A place called <em>The Witchery </em>oughta have one more hocus-pocus trick up its sleeve,” she said, and with that, went further up the bar to pull more pints and take in more petty cash.</p><p>Qrow grinned, shoved another handful of peanuts in his mouth, and turned on his heel.</p><p>He’d been a little short on magic tricks recently, but what was one more attempt?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tai was still clinging to consciousness by the time Qrow shut the front door behind himself and turned the key in the lock.</p><p>The larger man was comfortably slumped on the couch, a bowl with only remnant popcorn crumbs in his lap, his head propped on his hand and dipping dangerously. Judging by the quiet from upstairs, the girls were fast asleep. When he heard Qrow’s entrance, he turned his head on its resting place on his palm and forced his eyes wider. “Hey,” he said, with a sleepy smile.</p><p>“Hey yourself,” Qrow said. He kicked his shoes off at the door and threw his jacket over the back of the couch, dumping his keys in a wooden bowl that also held Yang’s favourite cat’s eye marbles and a miniature toy dinosaur. Padding over the carpet in socked feet, Qrow sunk down beside Tai on the couch and let out the kind of deep sigh that only came from a hard day’s work. “You shouldn’t have waited up,” he told Tai, with a reproachful look.</p><p>Tai shook his head as if to refute him, but the drooping of his eyelids did little to convince Qrow. “I wanted to,” Tai said, “wanted to know how your day went.”</p><p>With a moment’s held breath, Qrow tamped down on the part of him that always hackled when Tai seemed to pay him <em>too </em>much attention, like he was a loose cannon ready to blow. Tai was, most likely, just trying to be nice after all. “It was okay,” he said gruffly, rooting around in the bottom of Tai’s popcorn bowl for any salvageable crumbs. “Kept pipsqueak entertained and dropped her off in plenty time. Pulled pints and called taxis for people who couldn’t stand up. Typical stuff. How about you?”</p><p>Something niggling in his stomach – maybe it was premonition or plain cowardice – told him not to mention the speeding four-by-four and the drunk driver. <em>What he doesn’t know…</em></p><p>“It was pretty good, all things considered,” Tai said. He ran his hand through his hair in that way that Qrow was certain would tug his hairline back and thin his hair out by the time they reached forty. “My kids are really great – good mix of personalities – and they seemed like their last teacher was competent, which always makes things easier.”</p><p>“Good to hear,” Qrow said, staring straight ahead at the ghostly glow of the TV in the darkened room. Tai must’ve been nearly asleep before he’d came in because he’d turned the volume down so low that Qrow couldn’t hear a word. “And all your co-workers were nice, right?”</p><p>Tai winced. “Maybe too nice,” he said, tugging at his shirt collar uneasily. “I kind of feel like I’m walking around with <em>widower </em>painted on my forehead, y’know?”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Qrow said, even though he didn’t. Not really. Had never felt the patronising, overbearing sympathy Tai had described to him before. But he did know <em>disdain </em>and <em>pity</em> because they followed him around like a bad smell, so close enough, right?</p><p>Tai sighed in answer. “What about you, though?” He hesitated to say the next part for a moment, but clearly knew that Qrow would evade the implicit line of questioning if he didn’t. “How was your session?”</p><p>Qrow arched an eyebrow and kept staring resolutely ahead. Some late-night chat show host was gesticulating wildly before a backdrop of last week’s leaders’ summit in Atlas. Whatever she’d said must have been witty and insightful because the audience was shown to be raucously laughing.</p><p>“Eh. Not much worth saying. Bunch of sad sacks complaining about life, what else is new?” he grumbled. He could feel Tai’s reproachful gaze on him in an instant, and suddenly became intensely interested in the wood grain of the coffee table.</p><p>“<em>Qrow</em>,” Tai said in a tone normally reserved for reprimanding Yang and Ruby.</p><p><em>“Tai,” </em>Qrow drawled straight back.</p><p>There was a beat of silence, in which Qrow could see Tai crossing his arms over his chest out of the corner of his eye, no doubt trying to decide which tack he was going to take. The only sound was the distant swishing of the washing machine.</p><p>“You promised you’d try,” Tai eventually settled on.</p><p>Qrow repressed an eye roll, because of course Tai would settle on <em>I’m not mad, just disappointed. </em>He was a <em>dad</em> after all, a fact that Qrow was no more used to now than he was the day Yang came into the world, squalling and red faced.</p><p>Even though the days of weekend benders and skipping class to smoke pot were now but a distant memory, Qrow would be lying if he said he didn’t yearn for the simplicity of it. For the days when, if Qrow was being made to attend therapeutic sadness circle jerks, Tai would have bust his sides laughing and come up with increasingly hairbrained schemes to get him out of it.</p><p>“I never promised to ‘try’ anything. I said I’d go.”</p><p>Qrow didn’t have to look to know that Tai’s eyebrow was doing that upward tick that always happened when he got mad. “Don’t say it like you’re making a heroic sacrifice, Qrow. The only reason you said you’d go was because we can’t afford dropping hours to do community service,” he said bitterly and reached down for a half empty can of beer that Qrow hadn’t noticed before. <em>Good day, my ass, </em>he thought sourly.</p><p>Against all better judgement, and probably partly because he knew Tai would go in a sulk and not speak to him for days if <em>he </em>had a post-work beer, Qrow took the bait. “<em>We?” </em>he said. “Sorry, who’s helping who keep up with mortgage payments again?” Buy a house in a recession, what could possibly go wrong with that?</p><p>The blue of Tai’s eyes turned to ice as he glared at Qrow. “You made your business my business when you nearly got thrown in prison for common assault, Qrow,” he said.</p><p>“God, say it like I killed someone, why don’t you?” Qrow drawled, because he knew a tone of apathy would get a better reaction than one of fury. Tai was just like that, so fiery that any attempt to match him was taken as a justification. “I knocked some teeth in. You remember bar brawls, right? Back when you were <em>fun?”</em></p><p>The look of disgust on Tai’s face was plain, but Qrow was already dragging himself up off the couch and making for the stairs. He was determined to put a lumpy mattress and six hours sleep between himself and another shitty day, but Tai wasn’t done. “I remember all that in <em>college, </em>Qrow, when we were brainless kids. When you’re on the cusp of thirty, knocking someone’s teeth in because they were rude to you is just pathetic.”</p><p>Qrow halted for a moment on the bottom step, his hands curling into fists at his side. <em>Oh, if you only knew, </em>he thought. “That’s me. Good ol’ pathetic Qrow,” he grumbled, and his hand was a vice grip on the bannister as he trudged upstairs to bed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>For the rest of the week, things remained icy between Qrow and Tai. It hadn’t even been a big blowout by their usual standard. Over a twelve-year friendship, they’d gone weeks without speaking to one another after literal screaming matches and they hadn’t gotten their act together until someone had <em>made </em>them. Normally, Summer would decry their pig-headedness, the fragile egos of men, and how was she supposed to get anything done when the atmosphere in a room felt like they were all steeping in a pressure cooker? Less often, Qrow’s sister would flatly promise to commit first degree murder if only to cut the tension, and that had worked just as well because nobody was even entirely sure when she was joking. But now? Now they were two pig-headed men, with egos made of glass, hurtling towards thirty without ever having learned how to say sorry. Some part of Qrow told him it was something to be deeply ashamed of, but <em>obstinate </em>and <em>headstrong </em>had gotten him this far, and he wasn’t much one for changing just because Taiyang Xiao Long thought he ought to.</p><p>They kept it civil in front of the girls, though, because that was the unbreakable rule in this house that they’d agreed on without even having to speak about it. <em>The girls are innocent. The girls have nothing to do with it. Don’t be assholes in front of the girls.</em> And so went the three commandments of the Xiao Long-Rose-Branwen household. If anything, it helped to thaw their private feelings, because it was hard for Qrow to stay mad at Tai when he came home from the bar to see Yang styling his hair with glittery purple scrunchies. They put her to bed together, with Qrow checking for monsters in the closet and Tai kissing her on her forehead. When Qrow later quirked an eyebrow at Tai’s pigtails, Tai shrugged and said, “It’s easier for her to practice putting hair up with her new arm if she can see what she’s doing.” And Qrow had smiled, nodded his understanding, and went to bed.</p><p>On Friday morning, Qrow’s phone buzzed not long after nine, and a text from Tai lit up his lock screen. He swiped it open, ignoring the stab of pain he felt every time he saw the photo of him and Summer on his lock screen. They’d taken it on the day they’d graduated from Beacon University – a small miracle for Qrow, a justly earned reward for Summer – and they were decked out in caps and gowns. Summer’s legs were kicked up in a flick, her arms linked around his neck, as he spun her round and round in circles, uncaring about their diplomas getting crushed and crunched. The look of joy on his face, younger, unlined, and the way her head was thrown back in raucous laughter. The kind of joy and laughter that came with youth, with thinking that on your graduation day, you had your whole life laid out before you. She hadn’t known she’d be dead less than seven years later. Tai had asked him before why he tortured himself like that and Qrow always said the same thing – <em>I can’t forget what she looked like.</em></p><p>The text from Tai was slow to open. His piece of junk phone was getting old and decrepit now.</p><p>
  <em>Forgot Y’s lunchbox – could you take it when you drop off R? – T.</em>
</p><p>Qrow bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling, because secret service code names and texting like he was sixty meant Tai was halfway to ripping out his own hair. Which, c’mon, it was a lunchbox. The school wouldn’t let Yang go hungry even if Qrow couldn’t drop it off to her, but parenthood had made Tai such an uptight Type A that this was the sort of thing that could totally upend his day.</p><p>Qrow fired back a quick <em>Yah :)) xxxx </em>just to be an irritant and was met with a reply of the emoji man wiping sweat from his forehead, five times, so he assumed with cautious optimism that their firestorm of a relationship had suitably cooled and he went back to playing cars with Ruby.</p><p>Later, after Ruby had barely paused to yell a goodbye over her shoulder as she ran into nursery, Qrow spotted Yang’s class being let out for lunch into the playground. He held up the enamel lunchbox painted in Yang’s signature sunshine yellow and gave it a little wave. It took her a second – too busy hashing out the rules of some ball game with two boys – but eventually she noticed him, let out a whoop, and came running up to claim her peanut butter sandwich.</p><p>“Hey, firecracker,” he greeted, placing the lunchbox in her grabby-hands, and moving to ruffle her hair.</p><p>Fast as a shot, she swooped out from under his hand and grumbled, “<em>Uncle Qrow, </em>not in front of the other kids!”</p><p>He snickered, and shoved his hands into his pockets, taking on a dejected, hunched posture. “What, old Uncle Qrow not cool enough now you’re hanging out with Sun and Neptune?” He remembered her extolling the <em>coolness </em>of those two boys over the dinner table last night.</p><p>Yang frowned at that, thought about it a second, then threw her arms around his waist. “No, you’re cool,” she said solemnly, and Qrow smiled and patted her head before she pulled away. “Thanks for bringing my lunchbox.”</p><p>“No problem,” he said, but his eye was immediately caught by a head of white-blonde hair trailing through the nursery doors across the playground. His head snapped around in alarm, trying to spot the same silver SUV, or the woman who had been driving it, but they’d already gone. He thought for a second. “Hey, Yang?” he said, “do you know that kid with the really light blonde hair? In Ruby’s class?”</p><p>Yang’s brow furrowed for a second, following Qrow’s line of sight to where the little boy had just disappeared into the nursery. “Um, there’s a girl in my class? With white hair?”</p><p>“The mom has a big silver car?” Qrow asked.</p><p>“Yeh!” Yang said emphatically, bobbing her golden head. “It’s like, the <em>massivest </em>car at pickup every day and they all have white hair. The one in my class is, like, the smartest person <em>ever. </em>Sun and I copy how she spells <em>because</em>, she gets all the letters right every time! Her name is Weiss Schnee.”</p><p>Qrow winced. The houses they walked past to get to school meant it was impossible to forget that Yang and Ruby were going to one of the best funded state schools in the country. Tai and Summer had been so gleeful over that masterstroke of luck when they’d bought the house. The school that served the most affluent suburb in the city that just so happened to back onto their modest neighbourhood. The kind of good fortune that Qrow had called a <em>Summer Rose thing.</em></p><p>However, that also meant that Yang and Ruby were playing hide-and-seek and having playground tiffs with some of the most affluent children in the country. Yang was in a soccer team with a kid called Jaune Arc, whose great-great-grandfather had been a President. Ruby fingerpainted with the daughter of a scientist who had been awarded an Atlas Prize for his innovations in the field of robotics.</p><p>And it seemed now that Yang copied her spelling from a Schnee heiress. Not that that family was quite as illustrious now as it had been in years gone by.</p><p>The Schnee Dust Company had narrowly avoided a killing blow from the Mantle Accords that had ended the Great War a few years back. Accused of <em>war profiteering </em>and selling armaments to both sides of the conflict, if Qrow’s memory served, the SDC had now fallen on hard times and their share price had plummeted. It was something akin to justice, Qrow thought, from the amount of vacant stares and scarred minds he saw from working in the bar. And the amount of faunus that had been sent to suffer and die in their dust mines.</p><p>“That’s her there!” Yang said, bringing Qrow abruptly out of his thoughts. She pointed to a girl about half her size, sitting on the grass in the corner of the playground with an open book in her lap. Her head was tucked low, her body turned away from the other kids, and the frown on her face pulled at something in Qrow’s chest.</p><p>She was a Schnee, for sure. Her patent leather shoes, and neatly pleated tweed skirt were paid for by profiteering and exploitation. But she was also… a six-year-old kid, sitting alone on the playground, shielding herself with a book.</p><p>“Does she have friends?” Qrow asked, a little surprised at himself.</p><p>Yang paused. “No,” she said quietly, “I don’t think she likes anybody.”</p><p>Qrow thought about the woman with the SUV, stumbling drunk, and whoever had dropped off the little boy today not even waiting to make sure he got into the nursery safely before driving away. Not that anything that bad could really happen between the playground gates and the front door of the nursery, but it was more the <em>principal </em>to him, and he wasn’t even a real father. He looked to the small, white haired girl and felt a pang of sadness in his chest. He looked back to Yang. <em>Give her a nudge in the right direction, </em>he could hear Summer’s voice in his mind, clear as a bell, <em>and watch her go use what you’ve taught her.</em> “Hey, remember when you made the soccer team, but you were scared to go to the first practice because none of your friends would be there?” he prompted Yang, as Weiss Schnee flipped onto the next page of her book.</p><p>“Yeah,” Yang said, her tone thoughtful, “but when we partnered up for passing practice, Jaune asked me to go with him.”</p><p>Qrow nodded. “How did you feel when Jaune wanted to be your partner?” he asked. <em>Give her a nudge.</em></p><p>“Good. Less scared,” Yang said, scuffing her sneakers through the grass.</p><p>“Maybe Weiss seems like she doesn’t like anybody ‘cause she’s scared,” Qrow said.</p><p>Yang thought about it for a second, then her face lit up with a smile. “Do you think she’d want to share my peanut butter sandwich, Uncle Qrow?” <em>Watch her go use what you’ve taught her.</em></p><p>Qrow grinned and ruffled her hair once more. “I think it can’t hurt to try, firecracker.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bit of a longer one this week, and no Clover, but that's pretty much all of the setup and characters introduced! The Tai &amp; Qrow scene was a lot of fun to write (I love their slightly fucked up but ultimately deeply loving relationship) so I hope you guys enjoyed it too!</p><p>Clover will return next week, don't worry. In the mean time, lemme know what you thought!</p><p><a href="%E2%80%9Cthursdayseraph.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D">main</a> | <a href="%E2%80%9Cmarrovvamin.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D">rwby sb</a> | <a>playlist</a> | <a href="https://ko-fi.com/shannedo">ko-fi</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: drug mention</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Week two found Qrow in the same old, decrepit parking lot, staring up at the same haunted, breeze block community centre. He arrived just on time and took the empty seat that had been left for him where he sat last week, and James started his diatribe without a moment’s further delay.</p>
<p>The basic idea that Qrow got was that they were talking about coping mechanisms this week. The others went around the circle, giving examples of good and bad, but Qrow largely tuned out. Funnily enough, he remembered from some health class or another that drinking, smoking and drugs <em>weren’t </em>all that great for you, turns out. And he’d already hit that nail on the head, thank you very much. Two months sober and it had only taken the threat of jail time and never being allowed to see his nieces again, he though wryly. He could <em>run </em>this group if he so wished.</p>
<p>In the last ten minutes, James turned to something different. “Now, this week’s gonna be something that’s maybe a little more difficult to do by yourself, because it requires a lot of honesty with yourself. Now, that’s obviously a big part of what we’re trying to achieve here – self-honesty – but it doesn’t hurt to have someone to be accountable to,” James said. He could have been lecturing the group on the City of Vale’s superior sewer system, though, for all that Qrow was listening to him. James’ words were bouncing off him like a paper airplane as he stared at the ridiculously proportioned man and did the mental maths on his shoulder to height ratio. What exactly did this man look for when he went clothes shopping? <em>Oh, my measurements? Picture, in your mind’s eye, a doorframe that could beat you up-</em></p>
<p>“-which your partner will help you with-“ Oh shit, what exactly had Qrow just missed? A sudden wave of panic washed over him as he watched James tack a sheet to the noticeboard and people started getting to their feet to mill over and have a look at it. What the hell was this? College football try-outs? What was the point in James if Qrow was going to have to do all the <em>therapizing</em> himself with some other community service miscreant as his back up?</p>
<p>The fluorescent strip lighting flickered ominously as Qrow pushed himself to his feet with a begrudging huff. He tried not to take it as an omen. As long as his partner had listened a little better than him about what the actual task was, then they were off to a flying start, it didn’t matter what issues they were dealing with. Drug addiction, anger management, alcoholism, <em>daddy issues, </em>it was all old hat to Qrow, and he fancied his odds at this therapy shit.</p>
<p>After a woman who was even skinnier than he was shuffled out of the way with a <em>hmph, </em>Qrow started scanning the list, unsurprised to learn he knew exactly zero people on it by name. He had just found himself when-</p>
<p>“Hey, partner!”</p>
<p>Qrow jumped out his skin at the voice directly behind him, pivoting on the spot to see the green-eyed college student from last week. “Wha- me?” he asked stupidly, pointing at himself as though he’d be referring to a different <em>me.</em></p>
<p>“Uh, yeh,” the man said, raising one brow quizzically, “I only know of one Qrow with a Q.”</p>
<p><em>Oh, brothers, </em>this guy? Really? Army veteran golden retriever, who already thought he was an asshole? James Ironwood had a big storm coming if Qrow got out of this meeting alive, he thought grimly. “Fair point, boy scout,” he said in a barely audible grumble as he sidestepped the younger man, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were standing to each other.</p>
<p>The man’s laugh was full of life, an exclamation of joy. Qrow hated it. “My name’s actually Clover,” he pointed out with a jovial grin.</p>
<p>“Mmm,” Qrow hummed, his tone faux-thoughtful, and slumped back down into his chair, “boy scout works too.”</p>
<p>The next laugh was a little more strained, although it grated less on Qrow’s withered soul. The boy scout – Clover – took the seat next to him with the decisiveness of a person who was entirely too confident. <em>Oh, so we’re taking this partnership thing seriously, are we?</em></p>
<p>“So!” Clover said, clapping his hands together in a motion that would have been awkward if he was a little more self-aware. “Do you want to start, or should I?”</p>
<p>Qrow gave him a hard look, and languidly crossed one leg over the other, his hands burrowing deep into his jacket. Maybe if he talked enough, Qrow wouldn’t even have to take a turn.</p>
<p>Clover paused for a further second, until the silence started to hang in the air like a bad smell, then he gave up. Something Qrow thought he had an exceptionally hard time doing. “I- right,” he said, clearing his throat, and there was an edge of awkwardness finally creeping into his cheerful demeanour. Finally. Qrow would not have his ability to make any situation awkward thrown into question by big, dumb, and handsome over here. “You do know the assignment, right? You kind of seemed like you were staring into space when- uh, Jim was explaining it.” Qrow narrowed his eyes accusingly, if only to watch the way a vibrant red blush climbed Clover’s tan neck like ivy. “Not that I was- I wasn’t watching you-“</p>
<p>Qrow conceded he was bordering on cruelty at this point and jumped in to put the poor guy out his misery. “Clover, let’s just assume that I have no idea what’s going on, okay?” So far divorced from reality, he knew.</p>
<p>“Well,” Clover said and cleared his throat, his tone all measured patience. “The point of the exercise is to identify unhealthy coping mechanisms – that is, anything that we do to cope with stress, anxiety, pain, that does more mental, physical or emotional harm than good. If we can identify our unhealthy coping mechanisms, and then come up with some healthier ones, then we can start to change our behaviours to a healthier alternative.”</p>
<p>Qrow let out a low whistle. “Is this the part where you tell me about your secret blow habit? And I’ll be left tremendously shocked because it betrays everything that I thought I knew about your boy scout persona?” he asked.</p>
<p>The honest, surprised chuckle that Clover let out at that was deep and made something in Qrow unexpectedly twist. “Y’know, Qrow, you joke, but it took a <em>lot </em>of work to get to the point I’m at now,” he said, and leant back in his chair. “This is version five thousand of me in recovery. And I’m willing to bet that my version one was uglier than yours.”</p>
<p>Somehow, Qrow doubted that, because no do-gooder so positive and happy could’ve ever been quite the waste of space he’d achieved at his lowest. But he wasn’t in the mood for a self-pity competition today. “So, you’re a betting man?” he asked instead in a low tone of surprise, but even as he said it, he couldn’t help but let his gaze fall on the plastic and steel of Clover’s right leg.</p>
<p>All of a sudden, the mirth on Clover’s face vanished, replaced by a look of seriousness that made Qrow’s skin feel too tight on his body and it took everything in him not to avert his gaze in shame from Clover’s face. “You can ask, y’know?” Clover said. “I prefer it when people just ask. It’s better than awkwardly ignoring the elephant in the room.”</p>
<p>Qrow looked from green eyes – the green of a rock pool on a summer’s day – to the false joint that peeked out between cuffed jeans and sneakers. “What happened?” His voice croaked like he hadn’t had water in a year, and his mouth felt just as dry.</p>
<p>“An IED in some jungle in Anima, I forget exactly where,” Clover said, but the twitch at the corner of his eye said that wasn’t exactly true. “Below the knee amputation. In a field hospital, to boot, so my stump doesn’t even look pretty.”</p>
<p>Qrow smiled at the joke, and was reaching for something to say when-</p>
<p>“Before you ask what side-“ Clover stammered.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter what side,” Qrow said, his voice firm, because it was plain to him what side Clover had been on. The losing one. “Both sides led by hypocrites, liars and morons, with good people caught in the middle.”</p>
<p>Clover nodded, but the nervous tick at the corner of his mouth and the way he kept glancing around to see if anybody was listening said he wasn’t wholly reassured.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Clover, it’s not <em>that </em>obvious,” Qrow said. “I’m Mistralian, I can pick out an eastern accent. Even if Atlesian ones are barely there.”</p>
<p>The relief that flooded over Clover’s features made Qrow’s gut twist. Poor guy couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, had lost a leg in a war where nobody really knew what they’d been fighting over, and he still had to worry about what people would think of him over which chunk of land he’d been born on. “That’s a relief. I sometimes feel like every time I open my mouth around here, I’d be as well screaming from the rooftops that I’m some kind of war criminal.”</p>
<p>Qrow huffed and wondered if any of the bigoted morons of the world could explain what the Great War had actually been about, supposing they had a gun to their head. It seemed unlikely. He was about to say as much when James did the loud throat clear and clap that meant he was bringing the session to an end and started asking everyone to politely stack away their chairs. “Shit,” Qrow muttered, at the sudden realisation they hadn’t even made it onto the actual topic of discussion.</p>
<p>Clover smiled, somehow still managing to look handsome even in the most depressing of settings. “I pick up some hours at the coffee house on Seventh Av next to campus, if you want to meet up after my shift finishes and work on this some more one day?”</p>
<p>A strange jolt went through Qrow’s insides at that, and he gave a perhaps overeager nod. “Yeah, I don’t start at the bar ‘til six on Wednesdays, if that could work?”</p>
<p>There was this twinkle in Clover’s eyes that Qrow was already forming some kind of addiction to. “Sounds like a plan. Four on Wednesday?” he asked, as he stood and hefted up the book bag at his feet.</p>
<p>Qrow nodded and crossed his arms over his chest in a way he hoped seemed relaxed and cool. “See you then, boy scout.”</p>
<p>With one last musical laugh (that was getting less grating with time), Clover was gone.</p>
<p>And Qrow realised his own palms were damp against his chest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Clover's back! :D He's so much fun to write, honestly, because he's the diametric opposite to Qrow. Sweet and earnest vs reserved and cynical. They make a good team ;)</p>
<p>I got hit with some inspiration last night, so am currently trying to map out the rest of the story from the roughly 2/3 completed position I'm in right now, which is really exciting! I'm also prettyyy sure this is gonna end up as an E (explicit) fic, so let me know if there's any problems with that or anyone would like any specific content warnings when the time comes.</p>
<p>As always, let me know what you think! Kudos &amp; comments are fuel &lt;3</p>
<p>Tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @xiaolongweiss</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: jacques &amp; willow schnee's parenting is its own warning</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tuesday was a rare day off for Qrow, and it went by about as normally as things usually did in his house. The morning was spent making breakfast for the girls, and then minding Ruby once Tai and Yang had left for school. Being in charge of Ruby had been a task to start with. The girl had Tai’s energy and Summer’s cunning, which made for an exceptionally precocious four-year-old, but once they’d figured out their system of candy bribes and bartering for TV rights, Qrow liked to think he had a pretty good handle on the situation.</p><p>Today, Ruby was making her dragon toy soar in the air and leap from coffee table to couch while Qrow made good use of his half hour slot to watch the news, which had cost him a yoghurt pot and a promise that they’d play restaurants later on. The juxtaposition between Ruby innocently playing pretend with a plush dragon toy and the angry, loud protests at city hall on screen never failed to make him feel uneasy, though. Exactly what kind of world were Yang and Ruby being brought into?</p><p>Protests were nothing new, of course. They’d been a staple of the pre-, mid-, and post-war years, about as standard fare as a political sex scandal or dodgy expense claims. But there was something distinct about this one – seeing Faunus on the steps of city hall, demanding equal pay, and better working conditions – that set his teeth on edge. He couldn’t shake a deep, sinking sense of dread – that things were about to get bad again. Because it was so difficult and illogical for this government to treat an entire sector of its population like actual people. They didn’t need to. You can’t lose votes you never had, right?</p><p>The footage quickly cut to the president, bordered by flagpoles and with his customary double-axe pin on his lapel. He was making some remarks on limiting immigration and cutting welfare expenditure, freeing up money for job creation programmes and keeping those jobs for the fine citizens of Vale, and Qrow stabbed the power button on the remote to cut the feed.</p><p>Ruby looked up from her game, surprised by the sudden silence. “Was he being angry again?” she asked, concern tugging at her small, dark brows.</p><p>“He’s always angry,” Qrow said with a sigh, “and it makes me feel angry. So, I turned it off, ‘cause I don’t want to be angry all day. It’ll just make me tired.”</p><p>Ruby nodded her understanding, then thought for a second. “But… why is he always angry? Doesn’t he get tired too?”</p><p>Qrow considered this, running through all the diplomatic things you’re probably supposed to tell children so as not to let on how awful the world truly was. <em>He has a difficult job. He has a lot on his plate. He has to keep everybody safe. </em>It all tasted like ash on Qrow’s tongue. “He’s scared of people who don’t look like him,” Qrow said eventually, eyes still trained on the flat black of the TV screen, “Or people who don’t talk like him.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Mm,” Qrow hummed noncommittally. “I don’t know, Ruby.” <em>I don’t think he does, either.</em></p><p>After dropping Ruby at nursery later, Qrow came back to a house of boring adult shit. He ended up cleaning the bathrooms, changing the girls’ bedsheets, and putting on a laundry load. All the while, his mind kept on drifting back to the news, and what Clover had said yesterday. About feeling singled out and on edge in a world that was supposed to be at peace and making amends. And the unwelcome sense of guilt at seeing people on the steps of city hall, demanding equal rights, while he just kept his head down and tried to pay the bills.</p><p>As boring as it was, housework was a much simpler task than being an engaged citizen, so Qrow got stuck into the washing with gusto. There was too much he felt guilty about, too much darkness plaguing his mind every day, without adding onto it the crushing sense of powerlessness and guilt he got from thinking about the state of the world.</p><p>He went on that way until three, then made the walk back to the school to pick up the kids. Tai was staying late after work to get ahead on marking, where he wouldn’t be disturbed, so it was just Qrow and the kids in the afternoon. Between Yang and Ruby and himself, he was a solid ninety percent sure Tai would still have a house to come back to at five o’clock.</p><p>At the playground gates, Ruby was the first to make her way over to him, giving her friend with the red hair a hug before they parted ways. It made Qrow’s chest feel lighter. Only a week and a half into term and she was already making friends. That was Ruby, alright.</p><p>Yang spotted him and broke away from her own gaggle of friends, running up and crashing into him with a hug that forced an indignant <em>oof </em>out of him. “Uncle Qrow!” she squeaked, and Qrow was about to respond when her next question was already coming out in a tumble of words and excitement, “can one of my friends come back to ours to play? <em>Please?” </em>she pleaded, her lilac eyes round and wide.</p><p>Qrow smiled, because how was he supposed to say no to her? He did the calculation of what he had for supper, and was pretty sure he could stretch it to five plates, even if said friend was Sun Wukong, who Qrow was pretty sure had hollow legs to store all the food he ate. “Sure thing,” he said, “as long as they’ve asked their parents.”</p><p>Yang said “<em>Yes!” </em>and punched the sky in victory, then ran away back to her buddies with a large grin on her face, backpack bouncing on her shoulders.</p><p>“Do you want me to take that?” Qrow asked, pointing to Ruby’s own bag, and she smiled furtively like she’d been hoping he’d ask. With a grin and a playful roll of his eyes, he took her ladybird backpack from her and swung it onto one shoulder. “<em>Brothers, </em>Ruby, what’s in this?” he asked, but didn’t even need to be told that it was every dinosaur toy she could fit into the little red bag. It was the obsession of the moment, and he’d lost count how many times he’d been told how fast a velociraptor could run.</p><p>Ruby didn’t answer him though, and he looked down to see her with her fingers plugging her ears. He frowned, and held up his hands as if to ask <em>what’s the problem? </em>And Ruby put her hands down. “Dad said I’ve got to cover my ears when you swear,” she said solemnly, as though it was obvious.</p><p>Ah, <em>shit.</em> “Sorry, Ruby,” he said. “I shouldn’t say bad stuff like that. It’s not nice.”</p><p>She considered his apology for a second, her bottom lip jutting out in thought, but then she said in a joyful tone, “it’s okay!” All was forgiven. The short grudges of children – a lot of grownups could stand to learn a thing or two.</p><p>Yang was coming back over, then, with her friend in tow, and Qrow had to stop his jaw from swinging open on its hinges when he saw who it was. He’d been expecting Sun Wukong, ready to eat his way through their refrigerator, or Jaune Arc, who would boot the soccer ball over the garden fence at least three times and have to go ask the neighbours for it back, his face blazing with shame. But instead, Yang was dragging along a small girl with white blonde hair, her arms holding a library book tightly to her chest like a shield. Her gaze was fixed resolutely on the toes of her polished shoes.</p><p>“Hey there,” Qrow said, remembering his voice suddenly as he dropped into a crouch. “Your name is Weiss, isn’t it? I’m Ruby and Yang’s Uncle Qrow.”</p><p>Weiss stopped a distance away from him, but nodded politely. She was still looking anywhere but at the three of them, and said in a quiet voice, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr Qrow.”</p><p>Qrow couldn’t help the lilt of a smile that came at that. “Well, Weiss, you’re welcome to come back to our house. Do your parents know where you’re going?” he said, and then was suddenly struck by the realisation that her parents might not be too happy letting her go back to the house of a family they didn’t even know. He cast a look around the playground for any adults with that conspicuous white blonde hair so he might introduce himself, but he saw no one.</p><p>Weiss nodded. “I called the butler. It’s okay.”</p><p>Qrow was stunned for a second, his mind taking a moment to catch up. And when he had caught up, he didn’t really know how to respond to <em>that. </em>He nodded dumbly. “And you have their phone number for when it’s pickup time?” he asked.</p><p>She produced a small, sleek smartphone, that had the Schnee snowflake emblazoned on the cover. “I have the phone numbers on here,” she said, “and it’s on ninety-two percent. My sister instructed me to charge it every night before I go to sleep, and I do.”</p><p>The obvious pride in her voice distracted from the strangeness of the situation, and Qrow smiled. “That’s really smart, Weiss, good job.”</p><p>“I <em>told </em>you, she’s like, the smartest person <em>ever,” </em>Yang said, exasperated as though this should be immediately obvious to Qrow.</p><p>Weiss’s cheeks turned pink at that, but she lifted her chin higher in pride.</p><p>“Well, I can see that now,” Qrow said with a grin to pacify Yang. “Alright then, let’s go. How does tomato pasta sound for dinner?”</p><p>Yang and Ruby met the idea with a rowdy support of whoops and cheers, and Weiss asked, “Is it homemade? Because our chef tells us that the jars in the supermarket aren’t healthy, and everything is better if it’s homemade…” The walk home consisted of Weiss extolling Qrow on the virtues of cooking with fresh, organic ingredients and Qrow happily ensuring her that only the finest fresh pasta sauce was good enough for his nieces and their friends. It was a minor stroke of luck that she never asked about the pasta, though, because fresh pasta remained beyond the bounds of Qrow’s culinary abilities and patience.</p><p>He was in the kitchen, watching the kids play in the garden, when he realised there was something warm blossoming in his chest. As he chopped all the vegetables he was going to hide in the sauce to make sure Yang and Ruby were getting their five a day, he realised it was pride he was feeling. At Yang taking heed of his suggestion, and putting herself into Weiss’s shoes, empathising with the loneliness she might be feeling and the anxiety she might have around making friends. He couldn’t wait to tell Tai when he got home and see his face split into an expression of joy. See a little weight lift off his shoulders, just like it did off Qrow’s, at every reminder that maybe they weren’t so bad at this child-rearing thing after all.</p><p>Dinner went off without a hitch, with Tai coming through the door at six o’clock on the dot, just as Qrow was laying down plates and cutlery at the kitchen table. It wasn’t the biggest table, but Weiss wasn’t the biggest girl, so he’d managed to squeeze another setting in for her. “Seriously,” Qrow said, as he was halfway through telling Tai why he’d set an extra place, “I just had to hint at it and Yang did the rest. Which, I’m glad, ‘cause she’s a really sweet kid. A little stuck up and serious, maybe, but that’s not her fault. You know, she told the <em>butler </em>she was coming over? Wild, huh?”</p><p>As Qrow hefted the big pot of pasta off the stove and into the centre of the table, Tai crossed over to the kitchen window and watched through the steamed glass as the girls played some convoluted ball game that seemed precision-engineered to ensure Ruby never won. Qrow’s heart panged in sympathy for her – such was the curse of being a younger sibling. “You can shout ‘em in if you want, I’m all ready for them,” Qrow said, as his brother-in-law positively beamed at the sight in front of him.</p><p>“Hey, munchkins!” was Tai’s greeting as he swung open the back door, and the cacophony of shouts and rushed footsteps preceded Tai’s <em>oomph, </em>that meant he was now enveloped in a bear hug. “Sunny, you should – Rosy, c’mon, get off my leg – you should introduce me to your friend!” Tai said gleefully, then proceeded to heave the Ruby-sized weight on his ankle across their small garden to greet Weiss.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Mr Xiao Long,” Weiss said primly, and Qrow could have sworn she <em>curtsied. </em>The idea of anyone <em>curtseying </em>to Tai would have been enough to bust Qrow’s sides from laughter on a normal day, but he politely bit his lip and flashed them all a big grin as they traipsed inside for tomato pasta.</p><p>Tai helped the girls dish up whilst Qrow fixed drinks. Normally, dinner time was a water or milk occasion, but he acquiesced to the pleas of <em>“Juice! Juice!” </em>only because they had company. The kids didn’t even notice that Qrow had managed to get peppers, celery, and carrots into the sauce before he’d blitzed it smooth, and instead chatted happily about their days. Ruby had learned all the colours of the rainbow, and proudly counted them off on her fingers for all to hear, and then Weiss and Yang recounted their story writing class to them.</p><p>“We had to write what we did at the weekend, and I did my story about the playpark, and I talked about going so high on the swing set that I was <em>flying,” </em>Yang recounted vividly, waving her fork belligerently in the air to make a point. Ruby ended up with a fleck of pasta sauce on her cheek at the waving fork, and yelped indignantly, but all was fixed when Yang swiped it away with her thumb and giggled “<em>Sorry, </em>Ruby.”</p><p>“Okay, I gotta read this story,” Qrow said. “Did you draw a picture to go with it?”</p><p>Yang beamed and nodded rapidly, in that way that made Qrow faintly afraid that her head would fall off her neck. “I did! You’re gonna love it, Uncle Qrow, its <em>awesome.”</em></p><p>“What did you write your story about, Weiss?” Tai asked the small, quiet girl. Tai had the kind of easy-going manner with kids that only came with years of practice in schools.</p><p>Weiss hesitated for a moment, then found her voice, giving Tai a polite, wide smile. “I wrote about my singing lesson, and then our butler took us to get ice cream,” she said.</p><p>“You get <em>singing lessons?” </em>Yang asked, her jaw swinging open.</p><p>But Qrow caught Tai’s gaze over Yang’s golden head, and the look he saw was likely reflected on his own. The <em>butler. </em>Again. When was the last time the illustrious Jacques Schnee had taken his kids for ice cream, Qrow wondered?</p><p>There was a moment of excited chatter between the girls, and then Yang turned to Tai and proudly announced, “Dad, I want singing lessons too.”</p><p>“Me too!” Ruby squeaked.</p><p>The idea sent chills down Qrow’s back, as he somewhat cruelly reflected on the karaoke talent of Tai and Summer and felt little hope for the genes these girls had been passed. Sure, his sister could sing, but he didn’t have much hope for that DNA standing up to the fact that Tai couldn’t match a key or a tempo supposing there was a gun to his head. And Summer, bless her heart, couldn’t even carry the tune of Happy Birthday.</p><p>Tai, by now a deft hand at steering his daughters towards more financially practical applications of their interests, said, “Well, that’s a great idea! You should join the school choir, I know Mrs Belladona is looking for new talent!”</p><p>Yang and Ruby looked to Weiss, uncertain and needing an expert’s guidance on this, but Weiss only nodded avidly. “I want to join choir!” she said. “I didn’t know any of the other kids, but now I will!” And now the girls were avidly chattering about what songs they would get to learn, and how Mrs Belladona was the <em>best, </em>so it would be great fun.</p><p>All the while, Qrow stared at Tai over Yang’s head, mouthing <em>how? </em>How was Tai so good at this? Tai only smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. Whether it was trade secrets or pure talent, Qrow had no idea.</p><p>By the time he was halfway through the dishes, Tai was whipping up a batch of his signature chocolate crispy treats at the kitchen table with the girls. “By all means, keep the dishes coming,” Qrow said balefully, but the girls were having too much fun to pay him any mind.</p><p>Later, the treats were setting in the fridge and the girls were playing some pretend game with Ruby’s dinosaur toys on the rug in front of the TV, while Qrow and Tai half-watched some panel show. “You have so many <em>toys,” </em>marvelled Weiss, and Qrow preened proudly, because that bucket of plastic dinosaurs had been <em>his </em>idea for a birthday gift.</p><p>“Oh, we have a full <em>trunk </em>upstairs!” Yang said excitedly and was about to go and drag the entire thing downstairs before Tai gently dissuaded her, convincing her that the twenty dinosaur figurines were more than enough for the three of them at one time.</p><p>“What’s your favourite toy?” Ruby asked Weiss, clutching the velociraptor with chipped paintwork in her pudgy fist.</p><p>Weiss suddenly went quiet and looked determinedly at only the dinosaur in her hand, before she said in a small voice, “We don’t have any. Father says they make a mess.”</p><p>Something in Qrow’s stomach <em>squeezed </em>at that, and he suddenly found himself clenching his fists in anger. A quick glance to Tai revealed the other man had clamped his jaw shut just to keep from saying anything.</p><p>“Ugh, tell me about it, Dad gets me in trouble for leaving my toys lying around <em>all the time,” </em>Yang said, in that sweet, innocent, child’s way of hers, and Qrow felt more than saw Tai tensing at his side. Oh, <em>brothers, </em>he was probably running through his highlight reel of personal torture as he thought about all the times he’d been too grouchy or hard on the kids. Which was dumb as hell, really, considering all he’d been through in the past year. Not only being made a single parent for a <em>second </em>time but also having to drag Qrow out of the gutter along with them. The thought felt like a <em>twang </em>in Qrow’s chest, like the sudden splitting of a guitar string.</p><p>Yang and Weiss got more into their dinosaur game, and Tai sunk further into the sofa, no doubt pretending to be engrossed in the panel show so that Qrow wouldn’t try and talk to him. His head was just spinning around in circles of Weiss and the girls and Tai and <em>Summer </em>and all the damage Qrow had done in his life, up until he felt a small hand on his knee, dragging him out of his doom spiral.</p><p>Qrow looked down and saw Ruby’s large, moonlike silver eyes staring back at him. “Stairs, please?” she asked gently, and Qrow got to his feet with an obliging smile. It was another memory of Summer flashing across his mind’s eye, the day Tai had taken the safety gates off the stairs with a screwdriver, and Summer had taught Ruby to either go down on her butt and up on her hands and knees, or to ask a grown up for help. It had been a long time since she’d asked, more than a year, but Qrow had never had the ability to say no to his nieces.</p><p>He took Ruby’s offered – slightly sticky – hand and helped her take the stairs one at a time, only letting go once they were safe on the landing. He followed Ruby into her and Yang’s room, and, like clockwork, she made straight for the toy box.</p><p>Qrow smiled, already hearing Tai’s exasperated sigh in his head, and leaned against the door jam. The room had cream walls and beige carpets, the kind of colours that not even two tiny demons with crayons could wreck, and the furniture was split between Ruby’s favourite ladybird red and Yang’s vibrant yellow. One red bed, one yellow. A bright red wardrobe against Ruby’s wall, and a small bookcase painted with sunbursts against Yang’s, and on it went.</p><p>Ruby held up her prize with a triumphant <em>“Ha!” </em>and Qrow was surprised to see the plushie dog toy that she had practically <em>begged </em>him for one day at the supermarket, and in true Qrow fashion, he hadn’t been able to hold out against her pleas.</p><p>“Zwei?” he asked, a little shocked, because Ruby had proudly proclaimed last month that she didn’t <em>need </em>to sleep with plushie toys to keep her safe anymore, since she was a big girl.</p><p>Ruby nodded. “For Weiss,” she said, her voice serious, “because she doesn’t have a toy.”</p><p>Qrow smiled, his heart practically bursting at this wonderful, thoughtful little girl, and said, “That’s very kind of you, Ruby.”</p><p>She gave a little satisfied nod at his approval, and marched past him back towards the stairs.</p><p>It was a split-second decision, and Qrow honestly couldn’t be sure why he did it, but before he went to rush after her, he ducked and picked up a well-read book. It had been one of Summer’s favourites, and subsequently one of Ruby’s and Yang’s, which had left the spine split and the pages dog-eared, but in a manor house as pristine and cold as the ones they walked past to get to school, Qrow thought Weiss might appreciate something worn and well-loved.</p><p>When it was time for Weiss to go home, she spoke on the phone for a minute, serious and almost <em>business-like, </em>and then hung up. “My father’s secretary is sending the town car for me,” Weiss said, and to Qrow’s amazement, she didn’t even stumble over the word <em>secretary. </em>“Thank you for having me over, Mr Xiao Long and Mr Qrow, and Ruby and Yang. I have enjoyed my time and I hope I haven’t been too much of an inconvenience.”</p><p>If she’d been one of his nieces, Qrow would have swept her up into a bear hug there and then, but he was terrified of scaring her. The crease between Tai’s brows told Qrow he was thinking the same thing.</p><p>A stately car pulled up outside their humble, shabby house just after eight o’clock, and Ruby and Yang took it in turns to hug Weiss and say goodbye. Tai had supplied her with an old takeout box with crispy treats in it, and Ruby had tucked the plushie dog under Weiss’s arm. “He’s the best guard dog ever,” Ruby told her, “and he’s friendly.”</p><p>Weiss’ face had lit up like stars in the night sky at that, her icy blue eyes looking a little glossy, and fearing making any actual tears fall, Qrow crouched down in front of her, and held out the battered paperback as nonchalantly as he could. “Yang told me you like books, and this is one of her mom’s favourites,” he said. “It’s about a girl who’s kind and smart, with a jealous step-mom,but she beats the bad guys just by being the person that she is. How about I put it in your book bag, and you can read it whenever you want?”</p><p>Weiss still looked glossy-eyed, and her bottom lip was starting to quiver, but she nodded heartily and turned to let Qrow slot the book into her bag.</p><p>“You’re welcome any time in my house, kiddo,” Tai said to her with a kind smile. “Any time, I mean it.”</p><p>Weiss ran off into the night with a wave and a <em>thank you! </em>over her shoulder, and Tai and Qrow watched from the doorway until the town car peeled away from the curb, with Weiss safely inside.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>another fun chapter to write! Hope you guys like the kid chapters :) no Clover but he will be back next week! I said on Tumblr that I have the rest of the plot mapped out now. Just needs to be written lmao but at least I know where we're going! There are some scenes I'm reallyyyy looking forward to writing. So much angst ;)</p><p>I have a playlist for this fic now!!! including the song the fic is named for :) <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ts8SHuk8RmZ8ZmlE3X1yG?si=afEWLWVlS_Oa-d3JdTZgIw">here it is</a></p><p>kudos &amp; comments are fuel &lt;3</p><p>tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @xiaolongweiss</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spring had been battling through the chill that clung to the air of the early year, but it was still cold enough outside that the coffee house on Seventh Avenue had fogged-up windows. The bell tinkled above the door as he swung it open and then shut, stomping his feet on the mat to force some circulation back into his legs. The sign above the menu read <em>BrewDog </em>and was accompanied by a sweet logo of a cartoon dog curled around a steaming cup of coffee. The place was staggeringly <em>normal, </em>Qrow thought faintly, not nearly as hipster-ish as he’d expected from a coffee house round the corner from a college campus, and that took some of the tension out of his shoulders.</p><p>Behind a display case full of flapjacks and cakes stood a young man with dark skin and shaggy black hair. “Welcome to BrewDog!” he greeted cheerfully. Qrow stepped up to the display case, gazing up at the menu and resisting the urge to rub at the back of his neck. His anxiousness could make even coffee shops seem impossible these days, it seemed.</p><p>“Hey, uh,” he said, still gazing blankly at the menu to avoid eye contact with the smiling barista in a navy apron. “I was here to meet somebody; I think he works here?”</p><p>“Oh!” said the young man, his eyes going wide in surprise. Qrow couldn’t help but notice the conspicuous once over, and this time, he couldn’t stop himself from clamping his hand over the back of his neck like it was some sort of comfort blanket. “You must be Clover’s friend. You know, he hasn’t <em>stopped </em>talking about how he was meeting a friend after his shift-“</p><p>“Hey, Qrow!” suddenly, Clover was appearing from behind a monstrously large espresso machine, and Qrow had the sneaking suspicion that his cheeks were the same flush pink as Clover’s were. “Huh, right on time, and here I was about to do a deep clean on the machine without realising it was quitting time.”</p><p>“Now, now, BrewDog respects the diligence of its employees-“ said the boy with shaggy hair.</p><p>Clover snorted, “I’d have an easier time being a <em>diligent </em>employee if I didn’t spend my whole shift picking up the slack of the owners’ spoilt son, <em>Marrow</em>,” he said with a sharp eyebrow raise. As he untied his apron and folded into a neat square, Qrow caught himself watching the swift, precise work of his hands, and felt the pink in his cheeks rise.</p><p>“Strong words to the guy who decides your holiday bonus, Ebi!” The younger man said, indignant, but Clover’s shoulders were already shaking with mirth.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Clover waved a dismissive hand, then turned his devastating emerald gaze on Qrow, “What can I get you? Considering <em>somebody </em>left his dirty lunch dishes in the sink as though they were gonna wash themselves, I feel like whatever you want will be on the house.”</p><p>The boy, Marrow, squawked in protest, but Qrow held up his hands, fighting the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey, hey, I’m not getting you in trouble with the boss’s kid,” he said, even as the flapjacks tempted him.</p><p>Marrow grinned in triumph. “See? A gentleman. I don’t know how you attract these handsome do-gooder types, Clover, considering the corruption of your own heart.”</p><p>Qrow wanted to balk at that, because surely, if anything, this acquaintance was the entirely other way round? He was definitely an outrageous shade of red now and was about to protest further when Clover cut across the both of them. “Marrow, stop talking or I’ll tell your dad where all the marshmallows mysteriously vanish to,” then he turned to Qrow, and smirked in a way that made his heart stutter, “and Qrow, just pick something off the damn menu.”</p><p>Qrow knew when to admit defeat, and looked up to the chalkboard, pressing a spindly finger to his lips as he considered it. “Mocha, with cream,” he settled on.</p><p>Clover arched an eyebrow. “Honestly? I would’ve pegged you for a black coffee guy.”</p><p>Qrow smiled but didn’t bother to bring up the fact that his penchant for sweet coffee came from a past reliance on the alcoholic variation. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises,” he settled on.</p><p>Marrow let out a low whistle. “And with that, I’m gonna leave you guys to it. Shout me over if you want to thief anymore coffee and cakes from a hardworking independent business.”</p><p>Clover rolled his eyes. “And you shout me over if you can’t remember how to cash up. Shouldn’t be a problem, though, seeing as you’ve done it <em>so </em>many times before instead of leaving it to me.”</p><p>Marrow’s mouth opened to squawk in protest, but Clover was already moving away down the coffee bar, grinning, and shaking his head. Qrow raised an eyebrow at Marrow and then followed.</p><p>“It’s not good for me, y’know, carrying this whole team on a fake leg,” Clover said, and smiled when that got a somewhat shocked laugh out of Qrow. He looked at home behind the coffee bar, somebody with a lot of confidence in his work, as he poured and tamped the ground coffee. But Clover had a lot of confidence in everything, Qrow thought grimly. He would’ve looked at home as a birthday clown. Between espresso and pouring milk, he looked up from his work, returning Qrow’s smile, and said, “Come round.”</p><p>Qrow looked around at the other patrons of the café. Some students sat in one corner, their table groaning under the combined weight of their laptops, notebooks, and empty cups. A young couple sat at another table, sharing some kind of chocolate cake, and at the next table, someone official looking in a suit was speaking quietly but sharply into a phone. He looked back to Clover, who was still watching him with something in his gaze that Qrow couldn’t quite place. “That’s not… unprofessional?” Qrow hazarded.</p><p>“No, I’d argue its <em>very</em> professional, seeing as I want to make sure I’m making it just how you like it.”</p><p>“You do realise the object of dumping heaps of chocolate and cream into a drink is to totally erase any kind of nuance it has, right?” Qrow asked, head cocked at an angle.</p><p>Clover laughed, and it was definitely getting less annoying. It was almost annoying how un-annoying he found Clover now he’d actually, y’know, spoken to him, given him the time of day. Qrow didn’t much like getting to know people. They normally managed to disappoint. “Actually,” Clover said, bringing Qrow back to the discussion on the incompatibility of sugar and nuance, “you use chocolate and cream to cover up the flavour when you’re a <em>bad </em>barista. If you know or care about what you’re doing, it’s more of an art form.”</p><p>“Wow,” Qrow said with a low whistle, “congrats. That’s the most pretentious thing anybody’s said to me about coffee all day.” That elicited another laugh from Clover, and Qrow couldn’t help the pleased grin that crossed his lips. He hid it by turning his face into his coat as he stepped around the side of the bar and behind it to watch Clover at work.</p><p>Qrow didn’t have much idea what was going on, exactly. There were nobs that turned to give steam, and spouts on things that resembled old-fashioned door handles, and Clover even tried to get him to pick between two different blends of Belgian drinking chocolate.</p><p>“Now, you <em>have </em>to be joking.”</p><p>“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”</p><p>In the end, Qrow was left with a steaming mug of mocha that smelled like a happy childhood, and Clover fixed himself a simple americano with a little milk. He caught the look Qrow was throwing him. “What?”</p><p>“I think you thought I was a black coffee guy and I thought you were a…”</p><p>“A mocha guy?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“What can I say? I’m full of surprises,” Clover said with a wink.</p><p>Qrow could feel his cheeks turning a vibrant shade of red, and he wasn’t entirely sure what this conversation was actually <em>about </em>anymore, so to avoid further confusion, he led Clover off to an empty table in a corner. He put his mug down on the table and shucked off his coat, putting it over the back of his chair.</p><p>He hadn’t known what to bring with him for their group work. He’d thought about his laptop, but then remembered that Clover was a student, probably sporting some flash, brand-name laptop that would make his battered old dinosaur melt with embarrassment. He’d thought about a notebook, but the idea of carrying a notebook with his personal faults and vices into his place of work and expecting Glynda <em>not </em>to read it seemed totally out with the realm of possibility. So instead, he’d settled on using his greatest asset – his mind. Or, well, his memory.</p><p>Clover tucked his folded blue apron into his back pocket and then sat down opposite Qrow, bowing his head to blow on his steaming mug of coffee. And when he looked up, Qrow blanched and had to snap his gaze away so that Clover wouldn’t think he’d just been watching the pout of his lips. Which, he definitely hadn’t.</p><p>Clover hadn’t seemed to notice though because he said, “Hey, you look tired today.”</p><p>Qrow was about to come back with some witty retort about being tired every day, and actually his face just looked like that, thanks a bunch, but something about the openness of Clover’s gaze and the genuine concern made him falter, the words dying on his tongue. “I, uh,” he stuttered, looking down at the table. Then he swallowed hard and looked back up, meeting green eyes with his own rusted red ones. “I had a rough night’s sleep,” he admitted.</p><p>“Wanna talk about it?” Clover asked. “We don’t have to.”</p><p>He thought about it for a second. There hadn’t been a day in Qrow’s life where he’d describe himself as a <em>sharer, </em>and that wasn’t about to change anytime soon, but the whole Weiss situation had eaten into his sleep like nobody’s business. He’d sat awake until two in the morning, had at one point even fired off a text to Tai, despite him being in the next room, to get a text back in an instant that said that Tai was also lying awake, staring at the ceiling. Qrow shook his head. If talking helped him sleep better, it would be worth it, right? “Nah, nah, that’s why we go to the group, right? To talk about it?”</p><p>Clover smirked. “Look who finally caught on. And here I was thinking crows were known for their intelligence.”</p><p>Qrow scoffed. “Okay, I deserve that,” he said. “No, uh… my niece brought home this girl from school yesterday-“</p><p>“Your niece?”</p><p>“Oh, I haven’t told you about my nieces?” Clover shook his head, but Qrow was already mentally berating himself, because of <em>course </em>he hadn’t. This was, like, the third time they’d ever spoken in total. And a significant portion of those prior conversations had been dedicated to Qrow being an asshole. “Well, I have two. Yang is six, Ruby is four.”</p><p>Clover smiled, “Good ages. That’s when they have whole little personalities of their own.”</p><p>“Yeah, a little too much sometimes,” Qrow said with a laugh. “Uh, anyway, Yang – the older one – brought this girl home from school yesterday-“</p><p>“You live with them? With your nieces?”</p><p>“Yeah, and their dad.”</p><p>“Right,” Clover said, sitting back in his chair. “Sorry, I’ll stop interrupting now. Explain away.”</p><p>“Right. So, Yang brought this girl back from school yesterday, and she’d told me before that this girl is a real loner type. No friends, nothing. So, I was really glad that Yang was being a friend to somebody who needed one, right?” Qrow was waving a hand in gesticulation and Clover nodded his agreement. “But this girl, the more she starts talking… she’s sweet, and she’s smart, but <em>gods, </em>her parents are just… not right.”</p><p>There was a furrow in Clover’s brow as his concern deepened. “How so?” he asked.</p><p>“They don’t let her have toys, ‘cause it makes a mess. They don’t actually keep track of where she is and if she’s safe, I think they have employees for that kind of thing. The <em>butler </em>takes them out for ice cream,” Qrow wrapped his hands around his mug and the warmth seeping into his bones was the barest comfort blanket, grounding him.</p><p>Clover hummed, non-committal. “This’ll sound like I’m being totally dismissive - which, maybe I am - but rich people don’t show they care the same way normal parents do. Some of the upper brass in the army, it was like the highest expression of love they could show their kids and grandkids was to send them to some boarding school that costs a hundred thousand lien a semester, instead of, I don’t know, taking a day off work on their birthdays. It’s a different world.”</p><p>Qrow considered that. To be fair, he had no experience with rich people beyond being included in their congressional district, so what Clover was saying might very well be true. “I don’t know,” he said, reflexively rubbing the back of his neck, “this just seems like more than that. Last week,” he stopped himself, suddenly aware he was about to tell a relative stranger something he hadn’t even shared with Tai, but he told himself he’d had good reason for that. “Last week, I saw the mom drop off the youngest kid at the nursery, and she was drunk. She could barely <em>stand, </em>and she was driving her child around.”</p><p>“How do you know-“</p><p>“Trust me,” Qrow said, raising a hand, “I just know.” <em>I know what it looks like, I know what it smells like, I know the pathetic dark aura you drag around with you.</em></p><p>Clover looked concerned, like he’d just caught the scent of something he wasn’t going to let get away, but he conceded. “Okay. That is bad. But what can you even do? If you don’t have any real evidence of neglect.”</p><p>Qrow pinched at the bridge of his nose. “That’s what we can’t figure out. We can’t go to the police and say… what? That the mom drunk drives with her kids in the car when I can’t prove it?” Like they would believe him, with his record and priors, making accusations against a Schnee of all people. “Tai’s a teacher, but he can’t just go to his boss with a couple things Weiss said and a couple things I’ve said. Especially when- not letting your kids have toys is cold, but it’s not <em>illegal.”</em></p><p>Clover nodded, his frown deepening. “Yeah, shitty situation,” he agreed, rubbing at the side of his face as if to relieve the grimace there. “Could Tai raise the subject with the girl’s teacher? See if that teacher has noticed anything?”</p><p>“That’s a good idea,” Qrow said honestly. He’d have to tell Tai. “Thanks, Clover.”</p><p>Clover gave him a light smile. “It’s no problem,” he said, “and if you want my advice, I’d say keep doing what you’re doing. Keep an eye on her, give her a space where she’s safe and people care about her. You might feel like you’re not doing enough, but it’ll make all the difference if there comes a day where she really needs somebody in her corner.”</p><p>Qrow nodded sagely, then breathed out a laugh. “How did you get so good at giving advice? Are you even old enough to buy a pint yet?” With a pang of unease, he wondered what that said about <em>him, </em>and the way he kept catching himself ogling Clover. That was a new well of self-loathing Qrow didn’t need to be drawing water from.</p><p>Clover huffed, and the way his shoulders shook brought attention to the soft brown waves that bounced atop his head. “I did serve in a <em>war, </em>Qrow. I’m not that young.”</p><p>“What, do you want me to guess?” Qrow asked, belligerent. Then he took his first sip of his coffee and was immediately flushed with embarrassment at the way he groaned. “Shit, that’s good.”</p><p>Yes, the sound of Clover’s laugh was definitely not annoying anymore. It was almost musical. He shot Qrow a look that said <em>I told you so, </em>then said, “Twenty-five.”</p><p>Qrow hummed, distantly relieved. He savoured the blend of earthy coffee and rich chocolate in his mouth, then swallowed. “This is the part where I tell you I’m gonna be thirty in six months and you say I also look good for my age and you thought I was a lot younger.”</p><p>“You <em>also </em>look good for your age, I thought you were a lot younger,” Clover said obediently, “How was that?”</p><p>Qrow narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re not at Beacon University to study drama, put it that way.”</p><p>Clover balked. “Alright, are you always this mean to people you’ve just met? Actually, don’t answer that,” he sighed. “No, I’m studying physiotherapy actually.”</p><p>“Shit, really?” Qrow said eloquently, burning his tongue on a gulp of coffee. He noticed the tinge of pink in Clover’s cheeks. “I just mean… that’s intense. A very noble calling.”</p><p>“Well,” Clover said, his hands falling on his thighs with a clap. “I wouldn’t be here right now without the team of physios at the VA back home. They do incredible work. Only seems right I repay the favour.”</p><p>Qrow bit his lip. “When you say… you wouldn’t be here?” He somehow couldn’t imagine a guy like Clover brought so low, but then, the strongest people tended to be the ones who were brought low and had to rebuild their own foundations from scratch. As confident and kind and <em>perfect </em>as the man in front of him was right now, there was still a day in his past where he’d been a scared kid who’d had his leg blown off by a bomb, thousands of miles from home.</p><p>“A bit of both, physical and mental. I think my body and my mind would’ve given up the fight if I hadn’t had people keeping me on target, working towards a goal, encouraging me. I say that like the fight’s even over and I’m not <em>still </em>totally reliant on other people keeping me focussed.”</p><p>With a start, Qrow realised it was the first time he’d ever heard Clover be anything other than ridiculously upbeat and positive. It was a startling change. He seemed almost… smaller, his broad shoulders folding inwards on himself, his spine folding like paper. “I think we’re <em>all </em>totally reliant on other people, Clover. I don’t think there’s a person on the planet that could keep up all they do, day in, day out, without the people they rely on.”</p><p>Clover attempted a smile, but only made it halfway. “Profound. Do they teach you that in prep school for your thirties?”</p><p>Qrow gave him a light kick under the table. “Asshole. I’m trying to be nice here.”</p><p>“Y’know, if you want it to actually hurt, you should probably kick the left leg.”</p><p>“<em>Gods,” </em>Qrow whinged, but Clover was laughing again, so it was worth it. On the table, his phone buzzed with some unimportant email. The lighting up of the screen reminded him what time it was, the numbers flashing above his and Summer’s happy faces on the background, and he saw Clover notice as well, and look a little shocked. Qrow reminded himself with chagrin that at some point they should probably get some work done instead of playing footsie under the table. “Well, I guess I just tricked you into doing your homework without even realising you were doing it.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Your unhealthy coping mechanism. You strip away your achievements and make them seem smaller to try to make the actual issue itself seem smaller. That, and you can’t be serious to save your life,” Qrow said matter-of-factly, then swiped some cream off the top of his mug and popped it in his mouth. With a pang of embarrassment – or satisfaction? – he watched Clover’s eyes track the movement. “James said something about self-deprecating humour as a coping mechanism, right? See, I do listen!”</p><p>“Like <em>you </em>have a place criticising anybody’s ability to be serious,” Clover said with a huff. “Well, come on then, genius, let’s have yours then.”</p><p>“My…?”</p><p>“Unhealthy coping mechanisms? Y’know, the reason we’re here in the first place?”</p><p>“And here I was thinking you just enjoyed my company,” Qrow huffed, but then stopped to think for a second. “Y’know, my sister used to call me a loose cannon.”</p><p>“Sister?”</p><p>“Yeah, twin sister. She’s not in the picture now, hasn’t been for years,” Qrow dragged his fingers through his hair, and let out a shaky sigh. “We both had a lot of anger in us. Kind of comes with the territory of having a tough childhood, being dragged up. She used to say she was focused anger, she had a purpose - which is fair. She’s something of an activist now, a community leader. But if our anger at the world was a weapon, she was a blade, she was honed, and I was just…”</p><p>“A loose cannon,” Clover finished for him, then let out a wounded noise. “A guy who helps co-parent his nieces because their mom has removed herself from the picture… doesn’t seem like you’re the twin with the issues.”</p><p>Qrow’s laugh was dark. “Oh, I have plenty issues,” he said with a brief wave of his hand, “and, uh, Ruby isn’t my sister’s kid. But that’s a whole other story.”</p><p>Clover’s eyes darted to Qrow’s phone.</p><p>“I have a temper too, y’know,” he said.</p><p>Qrow raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“No, for real, I have a real talent for knee-jerk reactions,” Clover put a hand to his chest as if to swear scout’s honour. “I’ve found the only thing that really works is deep breaths and trying to see things from the other guy’s point of view. Suppress the gut reaction and lean into understanding.”</p><p>With a rolling in his stomach, Qrow faintly wondered whether Clover could’ve suppressed his gut reaction and tried to see it from the other guy’s point of view, the night he’d been picked up for common assault. Phantom pain lanced across his scarred knuckles, and his stomach was held in a cold, tight grip. “You’re too understanding. You want to see the best in everybody.”</p><p>Clover tittered and rolled his eyes in a good-natured way. “When you get like this, I can’t tell who you hate more, yourself or everybody else,” he said, “you’re a good man. You don’t need to believe it yourself for it to be true.”</p><p>“I’m a recovering alcoholic, Clover.”</p><p>He blinked. “And you work in a <em>bar?”</em></p><p>“Nerves of steel,” Qrow said with a bluster to blow his hair out of his face. “That and the fact that if I got caught drinking on the job again… goodbye job, mortgage payments, loans, the kids’ college fund. See, when it’s all laid out, I don’t seem like such a good guy, huh? That’s not even including the <em>legal </em>trouble I’d be in-”</p><p>“You seem determined only to tell me the bad stuff. Like you’re trying to scare me away,” Clover almost seemed like he wasn’t listening, the way he kept glugging at his coffee with nothing more than mild intrigue.</p><p>“Did it ever occur to you that there’s <em>only </em>bad?” Qrow said with a huff, one finger tracing the rim of his now empty mug, watching the rope of silver scar tissue on the back of his hand stretched over bones shimmer in the light.</p><p>Clover chose that moment to lean in and lower his voice. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t <em>care </em>about the bad? Or that I do care, but in a way that I want to know you’re alright, and you’re stronger for it. I’m not here to judge you, Qrow.”</p><p>“Then what are you here for?” It wasn’t like there would be <em>consequences </em>for not fulfilling their little group assignment. Qrow realised, with resounding certainty, that he was only really here because he’d wanted to see Clover.</p><p>“I don’t know!” Clover said, throwing up his hands in a show of exasperation. “To be your friend, maybe? If that’s acceptable to you?”</p><p>Qrow shook his head. “You don’t wanna be my friend.”</p><p>“You don’t get a say in who I <em>want </em>to be friends with,” Clover said, giving him a hard look. “And I happen to think, as ornery and prickly as you are, you happen to be a pretty good choice.”</p><p>Qrow <em>hmphed </em>as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “I guess I might have an opening in my life for a stubborn, pushy boy scout.”</p><p>Clover snorted. “Then we have an agreement.”</p><p>Qrow rolled his eyes but didn’t dispute him. Instead, he shucked on his jacket. “And I have a job to get to,” he forked ten Lien out of his wallet and set it down, “for the coffees.” When Clover opened his mouth to protest, he held up his hand. “They’re on you next time, don’t worry.”</p><p>At the concession that there would be a <em>next time, </em>Clover softened and sat back, a victorious smirk on his face. He watched Qrow gather himself and get up, pushing his chair under the table, then he asked, “Again?”</p><p>“Huh?” Qrow asked, vaguely dazed by the sharp turn towards something he’d had very little experience in – friendship. In nearly thirty years spent in this life, he had nobody left who could be considered a <em>friend, </em>without a million other strings attached. And if <em>that </em>wasn’t sad…</p><p>“You said again. If you got caught drinking on the job <em>again…”</em></p><p>Qrow sighed at the realisation of the insinuation, what he’d let slip. He narrowly avoided dragging his hand over his face in an unflattering gesture of weariness.</p><p>Clover seemed to understand, though. “Story for another time?” he asked.</p><p>“Story for <em>never, </em>really. But yeah. Story for another time.”</p><p>“Hey, talking about it helps, remember?”</p><p>Qrow huffed out a laugh and pulled his hood up over his head. “Yeah, I know. I’m a quick study, remember?”</p><p>Then, he left Clover with the dregs of his coffee and a grin on his face.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>posting a bit early as I'm getting my second vaccine tomorrow!! Please get yours when its offered to you &lt;3</p><p>Back on the subject of the fic, I hope you all enjoyed this one! It's a big one and an important one, so fingers crossed you liked it as much as I liked writing it. Lemme know what you think!! Sorry if there's more errors in this one than usual, posting at the end of a long ass work week, but I'll go back and fix 'em before long :) shout them out to me if you see them!</p><p>Kudos &amp; comments are love &lt;3</p><p><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ts8SHuk8RmZ8ZmlE3X1yG?si=tvFHhappREuRs8x3vILgAg">playlist</a> (the link actually works this time wow)</p><p>tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @marrovvamin</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow walked into work that night with a smile on his face, as rare an occurrence as could be seen in the Witchery, and he hung up his jacket in the break room, typing madly into a text conversation with Tai one handed.</p>
<p><b>Me: </b>just thinking, it might be worth speaking to Weiss’ teacher, see if she’s noticed anything? x</p>
<p><b>Tai: </b>Yeah that is a good idea, will try to get her alone in the staff room tomorrow. Weiss was playing with Yang at lunch today :)</p>
<p><b>Me:</b> cute :) she’s a sweet kid x</p>
<p><b>Tai: </b>She is!! How was your date? ;)</p>
<p><b>Me:</b> NOT a date</p>
<p><b>Me: </b>and it was good x</p>
<p><b>Tai:</b> Couldn’t have been much worse than your first meeting. The benefits of setting the bar low</p>
<p><b>Me:</b> yknow my therapist said its bad for my self esteem when I sign off all my texts with kisses to show my love and affection and I get nothing in return x</p>
<p><b>Tai:</b> HA. Don’t you have a job to do? Smell ya later ;)</p>
<p><b>Tai:</b> xxx</p>
<p>With a roll of his eyes, Qrow hit the lock button and tossed his phone into his jacket pocket.</p>
<p>Across the small room, Robyn Hill had her thick-soled boots kicked up on a slightly rickety table and was scrolling through her newsfeed. She looked up briefly, “Hey, Qrow.”</p>
<p>Qrow nodded in her direction. “Robyn,” he said, “you still here? Thought you finished a half hour ago.”</p>
<p>She rolled her shoulders. “L-train’s delayed. The faunus rights protests at city hall are getting rowdy,” she said. Her tone was perfectly level, but Qrow knew she was saving every penny she could from her pay cheque to put towards law school at BU. Marching for the rights of some sidelined group or another was kind of what she and her pals lived for.</p>
<p>Qrow tossed his car keys in the air and caught them neatly. “I can give you a ride. Glynda wouldn’t want you walking home,” he said. She raised a wild eyebrow at him that said it wasn’t her apartment she was trying to get to, and Qrow knew Glynda wouldn’t sanction him giving Robyn a ride to what could turn into a riot zone.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, one of my friends will be here in five,” she said. “Thanks for the offer, though.”</p>
<p>“Anytime,” he said, and it was his turn to give a weary roll of his shoulders. “And Robyn? Be careful.”</p>
<p>Robyn let out a solitary disbelieving laugh. “No active discouragement and exhausting cynicism? Are you feeling alright, Qrow? I kinda wondered when you walked in here with a smile on your face…”</p>
<p>Qrow huffed. “C’mon, you have my approval to go change the world, don’t blow it,” he said.</p>
<p>Robyn rolled her eyes and went back to scrolling her newsfeed. Qrow took that as her farewell and turned to leave, already running mental checklists of cleaning and maintenance. “It’s not a one-person job, Qrow. Changing the world,” she said to his back.</p>
<p>Qrow’s head turned back to her, caught her piercing lilac gaze, and he said “Noted,” before exiting the break room to get some actual work done.</p>
<p>Things were about typical for a Wednesday night, hump day bringing out the after-work pints in force. Sliding into the work like it was a second skin, Qrow took his first half an hour or so to clean up what Glynda hadn’t had the chance to between serving. He wiped down bar tops, cleared pint glasses, made sure the regulars were seen to, and he did it all with a spring in his step, his chest somehow feeling lighter and looser than it had in a long time. A regular – a man in a slightly crumpled suit with a receding hairline – even stopped him and said, “anytime you’re grinning, I think I should be heading to a casino or getting a lottery ticket, my boy.”</p>
<p>On a normal day, Qrow would have balked at being called <em>boy </em>in his late twenties, or refuted that any occurrence of his happiness was about as rare as a blue moon, but all he did instead was grin and say, “Six, eighteen, twenty, and… thirty seven.” Once he had towers of pint glasses stacked in his hands, he called over his shoulder, “Oh, and the power ball is fifteen!”</p>
<p>The sound of laughter followed him back to the bar, where he set down the glasses and pulled two pints of draught for a man and woman arguing marketing strategy further down the bar. This was a good day. People were tipping generously, it was a rare day where his brain and feet seemed to be working in synchrony, recalling orders and filling them like his head housed some sort of supercomputer. He’d even caught sight of his reflection in the window a few times, and was happy to see that the cuffs of his dark-red t-shirt were just tight enough around his biceps that it actually looked like he was taking care of himself. He smoothed his floppy black fringe back from his face, and knew from the way he’d caught a couple people looking at him that the haircut Tai had pressured him into a few weeks ago had been worth it. <em>Brand new day, </em>he thought to himself with a smile, <em>brand new you.</em></p>
<p>Once the initial busyness of going from one staff to two was dealt with and he had the clientele under control, he noticed Glynda coming up the bar out of the corner of his eye. He was flipping a glass in the air and catching it neatly in his other hand when she smacked a palm down on the bar, nearly startling him into shattering a glass on the floor. He looked up, a little alarmed, but kept going with the motions of <em>tilt, pull, pour, cut. </em>“Hey,” he said, as nonchalant as he could manage, even if the look she was giving him was invoking his entire fight or flight response.</p>
<p>“You’re weird today,” she said plainly. No hello or how are you doing, which at least made him chuckle.</p>
<p>“Am I?” he asked.</p>
<p>“You’re… smiling, and laughing,” she said, giving him a sceptical look over the rims of her glasses. “It’s uncharacteristic.”</p>
<p>He put on a wounded look. “Is it?” he asked, doubtful. A young college aged woman smiled and told him to keep the change as she took the tray of drinks he’d gotten ready for her.</p>
<p>“Qrow, you’re the grumpiest person I’ve ever met. You once told me that Taiyang and the girls aren’t allowed to sing you <em>happy birthday </em>because it makes you want to stick pins in your eyes,” she said, her tone as flat as a pancake.</p>
<p>Okay, that was <em>true. </em>“Maybe I’m just ecstatic to have such a pleasantly busy bar,” he said, going down the bar to take the next order. The tell-tale click-click of stilettos behind him told him Glynda was following.</p>
<p>“I’m glad <em>one </em>of us is pleased with our monthly takings.”</p>
<p>“Glyn, we’re in a <em>recession,” </em>he said, not for the first time. “The books just aren’t going to look as good as they did this time two years ago. But the day the good citizens of Vale stop needing a stiff drink…” he trailed off. Then, suddenly, “Have you thought about events?”</p>
<p>“Events?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said, “Live music, maybe?”</p>
<p>This time, she did actually look bewildered, and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead to gauge his temperature. “Are you <em>sure </em>you’re feeling alright? Music and joy and lots of people all in one place? I don’t know if our resident misanthrope could deal with it.”</p>
<p>He batted her hand away with a glower. “You’re really helping me carry this whole positive energy thing I’ve got going on here, you know that, right?”</p>
<p>With a flourish, she helped him start filling the order of a gentleman patiently waiting behind the bar. Once that was done and change was given, Qrow turned back to her to find her wielding the dash gun menacingly, ready to soak his front with soda water. “I thought your therapy group was on Mondays,” she said.</p>
<p>He glanced around quickly to see if anybody had overheard, then turned back to her, brow furrowed. “I mean, yeah, but-“</p>
<p>“Is it a guy? Or a girl?”</p>
<p>The moment of hesitation where he didn’t quite know what to say was all the answer she needed, and she raised a primly manicured eyebrow in victory. “Right, right, none of my business,” she said, backing off with the dash gun and setting it back down. “Whatever it is, knock it off. Seeing you do anything other than mope and self-flagellate is freaking me out,” but the smile she was trying to hide was so plain and joyful that Qrow couldn’t help but smile too.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he said, and his cheek muscles were <em>aching </em>today.</p>
<p>He went back to wiping down the bar top after that, and Glynda arranged the dirty glasses on a tray to take to the dishwasher in the back. There was something fluttering in his ribcage. Like a bird’s wings, brushing against the bones and muscle and tissue. He felt <em>light. </em>He’d already thought Glynda had left when a quiet voice spoke up, surprising him. “Maybe left hooking Adam Taurus will turn out to be the best thing you ever did,” she said.</p>
<p>He let out a single low, coarse laugh at that, and phantom pain spasmed across his left knuckles at the mere thought. “<em>Maybe?” </em>he uttered.</p>
<p>Because despite everything that had happened, he didn’t think he’d ever regret that.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Next Monday’s therapy session had concluded with James being pleasantly surprised with Qrow’s contribution to the group. He’d taken turns with Clover speaking about what they’d decided were their unhealthy ways of coping, all with minimal snarking and asshole behaviour, he thought.</p>
<p>Clover walked him to his car, and the whole sad, neglected feel of the building was somehow lightened by his presence. Qrow kept getting distracted by the way the soft waves of Clover’s hair were being ruffled by the wind, the way they looked almost like curls today, like he’d used some product. The bounce of his curls, the elegant line of his neck when he threw back his head in laughter… Gods, Qrow needed to pull himself together.</p>
<p>“What have you got on for the rest of the day?” Qrow asked.</p>
<p>“Uh, just classes, so I gotta catch the forty-four,” Clover said, giving his watch a mournful glance.</p>
<p>Something jumped in Qrow. “I can give you a ride. I’m going downtown anyway, I work not far from Beacon,” he said. A stretch of the truth. The detour would make him five minutes late, at least, but Glynda never mentioned it if he cleaned all the glasses at the end of the night for her.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>Qrow nodded. “They were saying on the radio that trains and buses around town hall are still a mess anyway, with the extra police. You’d just be making yourself late.”</p>
<p>Clover considered that for a second, then nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Qrow,” he said, and Qrow was just glad that he’d had the divine foresight to throw out all the empty cans of energy drink and return Ruby’s letter blocks lying on the backseat to her last week.</p>
<p>The buttons on the keys were a little unreliable, so Qrow hit the unlock button twice to be sure. Once he’d cramped his spindly legs into the driver’s side footwell, he pulled the heavy door shut behind him with a heavy <em>thunk.</em></p>
<p>That was when Clover, already comfortable in the passenger seat, jumped. His head whipped around at a painful speed, his arms lurching up as if to shield a fragile skull and vulnerable neck. And Qrow stopped - just stopped, because he didn’t know what else to do. Clover schooled his features quickly, relaxed his body, let out a breath, but the frantic <em>jump </em>of his pulse under his jaw was betraying him.</p>
<p>“You good?” Qrow asked somewhat stupidly. Of course he wasn’t <em>good, </em>Qrow knew the way his own heart raced and his body ramped up into fight or flight mode when he heard a bottle dashed against a wall.</p>
<p>“Yeah, just…” Clover said breathily, not <em>sounding </em>good. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Qrow gave him a long look, nodded. Went to turn the keys. “Uh, car’s loud when it starts up, but its fine once you’re going. The joys of driving a pre-war junk heap on wheels.”</p>
<p>Clover laughed weakly, then nodded, and they were off.</p>
<p>The drive back into town was quiet, to start. Both of them were struggling for words, Clover likely in an adrenaline comedown, needlessly embarrassed, and Qrow being dumb with no idea what to say. The thing was, he’d never heard anyone say the right thing to him, so how was he supposed to know the right thing to say now? The only thing that entered his mind was distraction, change the subject. He cleared his throat as they rolled up to a stoplight, and politely asked what classes the younger man had that afternoon.</p>
<p>Things warmed up after that, with Clover telling him about an anatomy professor who was needlessly excited about hepatic metabolisation, and how he and Marrow had stayed up until four in the morning on Thursday to submit an assignment they’d completely forgotten about until eleven o’clock.</p>
<p>“Gods, I don’t miss it,” Qrow had said at that, shirking off the last of the ice that had fused onto his spine as soon as he’d seen Clover react to a door slamming like someone had just taken a shot at him. “In our senior year, Tai and Summer used to barricade me in the bathroom with my laptop until I’d submitted a proof.”</p>
<p>Clover looked surprised. “I didn’t realise you went to college.”</p>
<p>Qrow scoffed, “What, ‘cause I work in a bar?”</p>
<p>“No,” Clover said sharply, “The job market’s a total mess, everybody knows that.”</p>
<p>Qrow made a considering noise as he waited for a light to turn green. “You’ll be fine, though. I probably would’ve been if I did something a little more vocational.”</p>
<p>“What did you study?” Clover asked, his tone curious and his green gaze feeling heavy on Qrow. A quick sidelong glance told Qrow the jumping of his pulse under his jaw had slowed. Good.</p>
<p>“Mathematics. I’m a fellow Beacon alumnus,” Qrow said, and Clover made a noise. “What, surprised?”</p>
<p>“I just-“ he stuttered, and Qrow could practically tell his cheeks were flushing pink in embarrassment. “You don’t look like a maths student.”</p>
<p>Qrow’s chest rumbled with dark laughter at that. “Thank the gods for small mercies, huh?” he said. “And I haven’t been a maths student for… seven years. Kinda been drifting since that. Nobody in Vale was looking to hire Mistralians during the war, and there wasn’t a bone in my body that could deal with going home to join the army. I met my boss, Glynda, not long after, and she’s been dealing with my stupid ever since.”</p>
<p>Clover smiled. “She sounds lucky to have you.”</p>
<p>Qrow could feel the bird’s wings in his ribcage once more.</p>
<p>He dropped Clover at the familiar square before the main university library with a promise to talk soon, and then tried his best not to break too many traffic laws to get to work on time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this one, it's a bit of an in-between chapter if y'know what I mean but still good fun to write! My health's not been great this week, mental &amp; physical, so I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to your lovely comments. All your feedback is greatly appreciated!</p>
<p>lemme know what you think!!</p>
<p>tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @marrovvamin</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: past alcoholism, drug mention (not use)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day was a day off, and his reward for being such a hardworking and upstanding member of society was a trip to the grocery store. At least Tai did him the small mercy of keeping the girls at home, so Qrow could go alone and zip round the aisles. Just him, a pair of headphones and a shopping list against the world. All in all, it went by quite quickly, and he only had to wave politely to someone who recognised him twice and was able to escape without pausing his music both times.</p><p>The place was actually blessedly quiet for a Tuesday after school, so he was able to just stand in front of the selection of teas and coffees for a while and consider his options. Ever since he’d quit drinking, he’d needed something to distract his hands and mouth in the afternoon and when he got back from work. Something different, something he looked forward to – it was the one real splurge he indulged in in his tight budget, but it had worked so far. That and a box of teabags was cheaper than a quart of vodka any day.</p><p>He put a box of apple and cinnamon tea in the already full cart, and with that, he was done. He pushed the cart past a mother making a futile effort to drag her son away from the pick-and-mix, then an older woman intensely examining the difference between two air fresheners. From what he could see, one was sweat pea and the other was jasmine. He’d even spotted Robyn a few aisles back, an arm slung around her girlfriend, Fiona’s shoulders as they browsed the industrial freezers packed with ice cream. They’d nodded to each other, but Qrow had correctly guessed that Robyn was also not the sort of person who liked to be accosted in supermarkets, and he’d pushed onwards.</p><p>After the horrible act of slotting his card into the chip and pin and depleting his bank balance, Qrow was done, and pushing his cart out of the store. He loaded reusable bags into the trunk of his car, returned his cart, and was on the way home.</p><p>The way home was so ingrained in his head, he didn’t much have to bother with consciously thinking through the motions of the drive and was soon daydreaming about what he’d be cooking for supper. He hadn’t known much about cooking before he’d moved in with Tai and the girls. When he was a perpetual bachelor, it had been the case that he just cooked whatever was easiest and cheapest. A lot of toast, ramen, grilled chicken, and on a Thursday night, he’d be treated to whatever experimental masterpiece Tai and Summer had dreamt up. He’d sat at the kitchen table in their family home, watching Summer stress about whether the girls were getting all the fruit and vegetables they needed, and whether she was failing as a mother if the only lunch Yang would eat was peanut butter sandwiches on white bread. And it made him smile and then sigh, half-tempted to call up his sister and tell her not to worry, because Summer was doing a better job than she would’ve, but also knowing that she didn’t even care enough to be stung by that.</p><p>His sister… Raven was her own maelstrom in Qrow’s head that he did his very best to keep a tight lid on. Somehow, he didn’t think that his duration in Jim Ironwood’s therapy group was going to do much about the people he shared DNA with. The last time he’d seen Raven had been when he had stood with her at Summer’s graveside. Tai had taken the girls back home, because Yang needed to rest and there was a wake full of people who wanted to offer their help. But Qrow and Raven had stayed. Looking down into a six-foot hole in the ground, at the dirt and white roses strewn over a simple wooden coffin, in total silence. To this day, Qrow had no idea how long they’d stood there. He just knew that at some point, the gravediggers sheepishly asked their permission to move in, and Raven had turned on her heel and walked away. Qrow had given a gruff response and ambled off in the opposite direction to his twin, already knowing where the closest liquor store was.</p><p>He’d woken up, bleary eyed, with his head positively cracking open, at some vague point the next day. Well, it was likely the next day, but who knew? Missing days weren’t all that unusual to him in the months following Summer’s death.</p><p>Tai had been at the door of his shitty apartment and had stubbornly ignored the empty bottles and mounting filth. Qrow had always been a drinker but it was plain to see he was spiralling, and here Tai was, telling him he was moving into his family’s home.</p><p>“You sure you want Uncle Qrow around your kids all the time?”</p><p>Tai had given him a hard look. “No,” he’d said coolly, and Qrow appreciated the honesty if nothing else. “But I’m not losing anybody else.”</p><p>Tai was halfway out the front door when it suddenly occurred to Qrow, “You asked her first, didn’t you?”</p><p>Tai would always love Raven, Qrow had thought bleakly, from where he slumped on the ground against his sofa, still wearing his funeral suit. Tai could never hate her, his first love, the mother of his daughter. That was Qrow’s job.</p><p>Tai had asked her to stay, probably begged her, going by how sore and red his eyes looked, but she’d said no and was on a plane back to Anima as they spoke.</p><p>Tai didn’t turn back to Qrow as he said, “Yeah.”</p><p>Qrow had only nodded and proceeded to pass out again on the floor after his apartment door clicked shut.</p><p>What had Clover said? <em>I’m willing to bet that my version one was uglier than yours. </em>Qrow still deeply doubted it, and faintly wondered if Clover had ever been forced to move into his ex-brother-in-law’s so he didn’t shut down his liver and choke on his own vomit in his sleep. Maybe he could ask him one day.</p><p>As if summoned by some divine power, Qrow’s phone started buzzing in the centre console, and as he pulled up to a stoplight, he glanced at the lit up screen. <em>Clover. </em>Not even stopping to think about the surge of nervous energy in his chest, he stabbed at the green receive button and then put his phone on loudspeaker. “Hello?”</p><p>“Hey, Qrow,” came Clover’s voice. And it was definitely Clover. Low, full of brass, if quite out of breath.</p><p>“You alright? You sound like you just ran a marathon,” Qrow asked, as the light turned green and he put the car back into gear. Faint worry prickled in his chest. He knew for Clover to be built like he was, the guy must work out, but Qrow had no idea what path led to Clover calling him as soon as he’d jumped off a treadmill.</p><p>“I feel like it,” Clover puffed, and there was a brief break where he could hear him gulping from a water bottle. “Sorry, I, uh- I just finished a physical therapy session and I’m, uh, wiped out.”</p><p>Something twisted in Qrow’s stomach. “You sound it.”</p><p>“Yeah, to be honest, I needed an excuse to not stand up off the bench in the changing room, and you were one of the last people in my contacts.”</p><p>“Where are you?” Qrow asked, and he could hear the mounting concern in his own voice. “I’m in the car, I could swing by and get you-“</p><p>“No, no! I promise, I just need a breather,” Clover reassured him, even if the panting wasn’t doing much to convince Qrow. “It was just a tough session. Thank you though, the thought is appreciated.”</p><p>Qrow took a deep breath, willing the way his heart rate had picked up to slow. He concentrated on driving for a minute to give Clover a chance to catch his breath. The days were getting longer, and the nights lighter, he’d been noticing. The run up to summer was definitely on its way, with cherry blossoms blooming in the trees that lined the street, their petals drifting amongst the traffic in a beautiful pink snowstorm. He was struck with the sudden urge to tell Clover about it. “You seen the cherry blossom trees on the A59 right now?” he asked, his voice sounding faraway.</p><p>Clover huffed out a laugh. “Nah, mine and Marrrow’s apartment is downtown, I don’t see much of the A59.”</p><p>“It’s pretty,” Qrow said, distracted. “I’ll show you sometime, before the flowering’s over. We’ll drive this way next Monday.”</p><p>He could practically <em>hear </em>Clover’s smile. “Sounds good to me.”</p><p>“You have many tough sessions, Clover?” Qrow asked, surprising himself with this line of questioning.</p><p>Clover made a strained noise, and for a second Qrow was determined to figure out where he was and go get him. If he had to drive to every physio in the city- “More so recently,” Clover admitted. “My, uh, left leg was damaged in the same explosion as my right. The field doctors managed to save it, but my doctor now keeps a pretty close eye on it and my recovery. There’s been some nasty ulcers recently.”</p><p>“Painful?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Clover said through gritted teeth.</p><p>Qrow frowned and his chest gave a pang. “That can’t be easy, Clover. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Clover managed half a laugh, “this is when they prescribe the good shit. My medicine cabinet would make me good money on the street.”</p><p>Qrow was laughing before he’d even realised he was doing it. “Y’know, I’m probably morally obligated to tell James you just said that to me.”</p><p>Clover laughed. “Moral obligations, what a drag,” he said. “My doctor keeps reminding me that there are no guarantees, and we need to manage expectations. Does wonders for my positive attitude.”</p><p>Qrow somehow doubted there was much that could put a serious dent in Clover’s sunny disposition, the way he just radiated warmth, but he could tell this was difficult for him. “You don’t have to be positive all the time, Clover. Sometimes you can let other people do the heavy lifting for you. Take it from an expert.”</p><p>A tittering laugh came down the line. “Yeah, I know. It’s just tough.”</p><p>“So are you, though. Tough, I mean.”</p><p>There was a beat of silence, then Clover’s voice was soft when he said, “thanks, Qrow.”</p><p>The following lull in the conversation was remarkably comfortable, with Qrow watching the flow of traffic and the drifting cherry blossoms, and Clover levelling out his breathing. Qrow couldn’t help the faint thought that he wished this could be a regular thing – a spontaneous phone call from Clover, in which they just talked about their days and enjoyed each other’s company. Anytime he spoke with Clover, he felt like some of the man’s own personal sunshine that seemed to follow him around was rubbing off on Qrow, and everything just seemed a little brighter, a little more saturated with colour. A cracked grey sidewalk and a black tar road weren’t just that, inanimate representations of industrialism and brutalism, but were conduits to life and dreams, and represented the thousands of footsteps and millions of miles driven in the pursuit of happiness.</p><p>Gods, if Clover got anymore in Qrow’s head, he was gonna start writing <em>songs </em>again, and then they’d all be in trouble.</p><p>Clover’s voice was back, giving him a much-needed break in his internal monologue. “Hey, I meant to ask, remember that little girl you were telling me about? You seen her again, yet?” he asked.</p><p>“She was over at ours on Friday,” Qrow said, “but I missed her. Was at work all night. I passed on your suggestion about talking to the teacher to Tai, and he did! Just, the teacher said she hadn’t noticed anything that unusual - just weird, <em>cold, </em>rich parents, like you said. At least we’ve got another pair of eyes looking out for her now and aware of it. Tai said she was doing okay, but she was glad to be back at ours. I gave her this book, and Ruby gave her a teddy, and I think she’s taken to carrying both of them about in her backpack,” he was smiling as he said, “it’s sweet.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Clover said with a grin in his voice, “that is really sweet. Hey, you never know, maybe you and Taiyang and the girls will turn out to be a port in the storm for her. Maybe you guys are exactly what she needs.”</p><p>“Mm,” Qrow hummed, making a right turn to pull into their neighbourhood. “I just wish we could be more, if I’m honest.”</p><p>Clover sighed. “I think you’re already doing as much as you can, and I think you’re doing way more than anybody else has ever done for her,” he said. “It would be different if she was yours, it would be your prerogative to protect her and fight her battles, but there are boundaries, and you’ve gotta respect them.”</p><p>Qrow nodded slowly, then remembered Clover couldn’t see him. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said with a sigh. Then, mournfully, “I’m just about home.”</p><p>“You cooking tonight? What’s for dinner?”</p><p>“I’m gonna make my own godsdamned fish fingers, that’s what,” Qrow said with gusto, trying to banish the sadness that the topic of Weiss had brought over him. He may have sounded confident but every step he got closer to the kitchen, the doubt in his culinary abilities and produce selection worsened.</p><p>Clover was laughing down the line, sounding whole and healthy. “I believe in you, Qrow.”</p><p>“Don’t do that, that’s a dumb idea,” Qrow said with a chuckle as he pulled into the driveway. “Hey, how you feeling?”</p><p>“<em>Wayyy </em>better,” Clover said, dragging out his words with a youthful energy. “I said I just needed a rest, didn’t I?”</p><p>Qrow smiled again, and he found his face was sore from grinning at the constant beleaguerment, amusement and joy he felt from speaking to this guy. That realisation alone was enough to raise pink spots on his cheeks, and he blustered out a breath. “It was good talking to you.” <em>We should do this again, </em>was on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself right at the last moment. A sudden fear of being over familiar, of being too keen, was shooting up his spine like columns of ice. This still felt too new and delicate.</p><p>“You too, Qrow,” Clover saved him by breaking the quiet. He sounded almost wistful, but Qrow forcefully told himself he was imagining it. “See you on Monday?”</p><p>A whole six days away. Qrow tried to tell himself he wouldn’t count them down, but as much practice as he’d had lying to others, he’d never quite mastered the art of lying to himself, instead seeing his world and his choices in the stark and unforgiving light of honesty. “Yeah, Monday,” he said nonchalant, determinedly not betraying the disappointment he felt, “see you then.”</p><p>“See you then!”</p><p>And with that, Clover ended the call.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oooh I hope you guys liked this one. We're getting <i>into</i> it now. I have upped the chapter count preemptively because I know now this isn't going to be as short as I thought it would lol but I hope you guys are excited to come along for the ride :) It's subject to change, but we'll set it that for now!</p><p>As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated. Much love &lt;3</p><p>tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @marrovvamin</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow sat in the driver’s seat for a minute, with the engine switched off, staring at the call log time on his phone screen. He let out a shaky breath, leaned back against the headrest and shut his eyes. It had been such a long time since he’d felt like this. The eager anticipation of any phone call, text, counting down days and hours and minutes until he’d see somebody again. The last few years hadn’t had much room for anything like that, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that interested in meeting people outside his own small, insular circle. Couldn’t remember a time since Raven had abandoned them that he hadn’t treated new people with open hostility and contempt. Whether it was some deep-seated fear of being disappointed or just good old-fashioned anger at the world and everybody in it, Qrow didn’t know.</p><p>He knew Clover wasn’t the magical antidote to all his problems. In fact, that phone call had only served to underscore the fact that Clover was just as fragmented in many ways as he was, and he had no way of knowing how deep that ran. Clover wasn’t the person that was going to make Qrow want to jump out of bed at six in the morning and greet the day with earnest trepidation, that just was not him, and beyond that, he wasn’t much sure <em>how </em>this guy made him feel, beyond nervous and fluttery and giggly.</p><p>But he did know how Clover <em>didn’t </em>make him feel. His smile and his gentle manor and his natural instinct to <em>understand </em>rather than judge – Clover <em>didn’t </em>raise a single hackle on his back, didn’t trigger any single one of the defences that Qrow had built around himself like a castle. No, not a castle, more like a particularly nasty porcupine with spiky, venomous quills. And if Qrow was some sort of hissing porcupine, then Clover was the guy who knew how to lay a hand on him just right, so as not to get pricked.</p><p>And Qrow didn’t much know what to do about that.</p><p>He shook his head vehemently. Tai, Ruby, Yang, Glynda. That was it. Those were the people left in the world who didn’t make him feel like he was curling in around some soft underbelly in need of protection. He didn’t need anybody else. He didn’t want anybody else.</p><p>But that wasn’t true, was it? He’d pressed a book into Weiss Schnee’s arms in the hope that it would make her feel a little less alone in the world, because he knew that feeling and he didn’t want her knowing it, as young and small and defenceless as she was.</p><p>That was proving the stumbling block in every argument he had with himself where he tried to tell himself not to get too close to Clover, not to answer all his texts, not to return his calls. Sure, Qrow might not <em>need </em>anyone else, and he kept telling himself that he didn’t <em>want </em>anybody else, but his actions spoke in stark contrast every damn time.</p><p>He pressed the heels of his hands to his eye sockets, waited a moment till some of the pressure in his temples dissipated, and then got out of the car.</p><p>Inside, Qrow put the groceries down on the kitchen counter with a <em>thunk </em>and he and Tai moved around each other with a practiced fluidity as they went from bags to cupboard to fridge and back again. His brother-in-law had greeted him with a broad smile, the kind of smile that made Qrow feel bad about dredging up their darker memories, but then, that was probably what made their relationship so impervious to the tests of time and strain. They’d already had about every blowout that it was possible to have, said and thought unspeakable things about each other, and they were still here. <em>If that wasn’t love, </em>Qrow thought wistfully, as he watched the golden-haired man neatly sort out his stock cubes in the cupboard with a furrow between his brows.</p><p>Speaking of love, the two lights of his life were huddled around the kitchen table with Weiss, bent over colouring books. In the middle of the table were pots of crayons – Tai had been reluctant to let either of them near markers ever again since the pink-scribbling-on-the-furniture fiasco. There was also a plate of sliced fruit and vegetables, as well as little yoghurt pots for dipping. Qrow had always openly admired Tai’s dedication to the girls’ diets and had done his very best to adopt it, but watching Tai become a parent had only reinforced the idea in Qrow’s head that if it had been <em>him </em>up to bat first, his kid would’ve probably croaked of malnutrition long ago. It would’ve been spaghetti hoops and potato waffles three times a day.</p><p>Qrow set up the ingredients for his fish fingers, took frozen peas out of the freezer, and set about peeling potatoes for Tai’s own healthy, oven baked version of fries. Tai was more than happy to help him out in between setting up the girls with drinks. Halfway through his potato pile, Qrow amused himself by lugging into Yang and Weiss’s conversation, peering over at the crayon drawings they were concocting.</p><p>Weiss was drawing what looked like a dog… made of ice? Or maybe it was just the blue crayon. And Yang was constructing a faithful-to-life portrait of herself and her friends, complete with her wild golden hair and a horrifically massive sun in the top left corner. There was herself, and Weiss, who Qrow couldn’t help but laugh when he noticed was drawn with a pronounced frown. Then Sun and Jaune, the only differential between the two taller blonde children being that one had a tail. And Ruby made an appearance, alongside a comically large ladybird. It was only the last addition that Qrow couldn’t identify – a girl with black hair, and cat ears to match.</p><p>Weiss had noticed as well, leaning away from her drawing of a blue ice dog surrounded by ice bones to gawk at Yang’s drawing. “You and Blake aren’t <em>friends,</em>” she interjected, in that high-pitched, whiny tone that Qrow really did his best not to find funny. “Blake doesn’t speak to anyone.”</p><p>Yang frowned, looking up from her drawing and holding her crayon tighter. “We <em>are </em>friends,” she insisted emphatically. “You used to not talk to people either, remember?”</p><p>That had stumped Weiss, as the little girl frowned deeply, unsure how to answer.</p><p>Sensing a teaching opportunity, Tai stepped in. “Maybe Blake’s just a bit scared to make the first move. It would be scary to try to talk to a whole group of friends when you’re alone,” he suggested softly. “I bet it would take the pressure off if someone spoke to <em>her </em>first.” Qrow had to stifle an eye roll at the astonishing rate at which this family picked up strays.</p><p>Weiss and Yang seemed to consider this for a moment, but Ruby had already made up her mind, clearly enamoured withYang’s drawing of the girl with cat’s ears and already babbling about all the games they would play with her toy dinosaurs.But that came to a shuddering halt at the next words out of Weiss’s mouth. “I don’t think I should,” she said with a <em>hmph, </em>her pale blonde fringe rustling in the puff of air. “She’s a faunus, and Father would be upset with me for being friends with a faunus. He says they are dirty and lazy.”</p><p>Qrow more felt his jaw tightening than he commenced the conscious action to do so. He felt his entire body go rigid, and there was fire rising in his gut at the thought of all the things he’d call Jacques Schnee if he ever had the opportunity. Tai noticed his agitation with alarm and placed a placating arm on his forearm, sapphire blue eyes as wide as dinner plates, clearly misreading the rage bubbling inside Qrow as directed at Weiss. But Weiss was just the unwitting, six-year-old mouthpiece for one of the vilest men in the world, who paid faunus a pittance to labour and die in his dust mines.</p><p>Weiss, to her credit, seemed to be doubting the words as soon as she saw the reactions of the adults in the room, with Qrow wound as tight as a mouse trap and Tai’s eyes darting between the two of them.</p><p>It was only then, as he saw the look of doubt in Weiss’ eyes and the slight curl of her shoulders, that he could hear a voice, clear as a bell in his mind. He drew in a shaky breath. <em>Suppress the gut reaction and lean into understanding. </em>Tai looked a little dumbfounded as Qrow moved past him to crouch down next to Weiss, painfully aware that towering over her with a stern expression was only going to draw unwelcome thoughts of her father. “That’s a pretty mean thing for your father to say, Weiss,” he said solemnly.</p><p>He kneeled down on the cool, linoleum floor, conscious of Yang and Weiss watching him with wide eyes and even Ruby looking faintly interested. His ageing joints creaked as he laid his weight on them, and he bowed his head forward. With the back of his head at eyesight level, he reached up his fingers and parted his hair, immediately feeling the smooth, silky feel of feathers, inky as the night sky, under his fingertips.</p><p>Qrow and Raven had always been acutely aware of the privilege they had in their lives to <em>pass, </em>as the faunus called it, the only characteristics that visibly marked them out as faunus easily hidden by what most people took as an especially unruly head of hair. It was one of the many things they’d fought over until they were blue in the face. Whether it was morally right to just pass or whether they should be proudly and vocally <em>out. </em>It had kept Qrow up at night more than once, had made him the target of his sister’s scorn and contempt, branding him with words like <em>coward </em>and <em>pet </em>and whatever else she could think up that would cut deepest. The way he’d seen it, he’d had enough difficulty just staying afloat and in steady work, already a foreign enemy in a country at war. But that didn’t mean he’d never felt any guilt, seeing faunus demanding their rights and marching in the streets, and never lifting a finger to help.</p><p>He heard the sharp intake of breath from Weiss as she made out the inky black feathers at the meeting of spine and skull, where his namesake’s feathers cut a sharp, sleek line so as to better glide through the air. He felt a light touch and small fingertips at the place where he’d parted his hair, where thick quills dug into his skin rather than delicate follicles.</p><p>“I’m a faunus, Weiss,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t think I’m dirty or lazy, would you?”</p><p>The frown was evident in her small, high voice. “Well, no…” she leaned down, to meet his deep red gaze. “I’ve never been friends with a faunus before.”</p><p>The fact that they were <em>friends </em>made his heart pang and the corner of his mouth lift. “Maybe you have been, and you just didn’t know,” he reasoned, and Weiss bit her lip as she solemnly considered this. “Some people are human, and some people are faunus. We’re all different, Weiss, it would be boring if we were all the same. But <em>different </em>is not the same as <em>bad. </em>That’s <em>really </em>important.”</p><p>He looked up, and Weiss gave a small nod in her understanding. Yang was <em>beaming </em>at her, clearly delighted her new friend continued to be <em>good, </em>through and through. Tai was giving him that look that he always did when Qrow pulled a <em>Big Teaching Moment </em>out of nowhere and helped to shape the generation of tomorrow. It was halfway between proud and mournful, but one hundred percent smug. And Ruby… well, Ruby just looked happy to be there.</p><p>“It’s like the book you gave me,” Weiss said, her eyes darting to where the battered paperback had made its permanent home in her book bag. “She isn’t the fairest because she’s pretty. She’s the fairest because she’s kind, and she loves everyone the same.”</p><p>Tai smiled. “Like you do, Weiss.”</p><p>The doubt was dissipating from her face like the sun breaking through a storm cloud, and suddenly she was throwing her arms around Qrow’s neck in a grip so tight he nearly choked. “Yeah,” she mumbled into his shirt, and if there was a little damp patch on his shoulder when she pulled away, he didn’t mention it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Next Monday found Qrow back in the looming community centre, a month into his therapy, and strangely feeling like maybe he was striking along the right path for once.</p><p>When he thought about the spiral of anger and bottles and self-loathing a conversation like the one he’d had with Weiss might have sent him into three months ago… well, Qrow was starting to see the benefits of this stupid exercise. Okay, not so stupid. Not that he would land all the praise and credit squarely at James Ironwood’s feet.</p><p>Every time in this last month he’d been faced with a choice, some sort of decision, where he had the option to be Qrow Branwen, surly, depressed, borderline suicidal alcoholic, or Qrow Branwen, uncle, father figure, friend, colleague, something <em>better, </em>the recurring theme was the people he thought of. The ones he wanted to make proud.</p><p>Tai, who was working so hard back at his job to be the role model and guiding hand that a classroom of malleable minds needed. Glynda, who, despite the state of the world, was keeping her bar afloat with sheer power of will, and who still always found the time to check up on Qrow, ask how he was doing, even though every piece of good sense said she should have shown him the door long ago. Yang and Ruby, learning about the world and the people in it in all their joyful innocence, always believing the sunrise would bring a better tomorrow and trusting that they were loved and cared for. And Weiss, another tiny kid with sad eyes he couldn’t help but beckon under his wing.</p><p>Tai, Glynda, Ruby, Yang, Weiss, for sure… but for the first time in a year, the mere thought of Summer Rose no longer seized his chest in sharp panic, like a pane of glass shattering into a billion infinitesimal shards. Now, when Qrow thought of Summer, he still ached. Her absence was conspicuous and sent phantom pains through him like a missing limb. He missed her. By all the gods, he <em>missed </em>her. But on the good days, he could feel her there. The way she’d always made his heart feel two times as large, her wisdom and kindness and compassion like a whisper of wind in his ear.</p><p>She was gone. He knew that now. He knew no amount of dunking his bruised and bloodied hands into a bucket of ice water and falling asleep sobbing into his pillow was going to bring her back. He <em>knew. </em>And somehow, that made it better. He knew she was dead. That was progress. Maybe it wouldn’t seem that way to some more balanced and divined being, but to him, it was progress.</p><p>He thought all that as he looked down at the clock on his lock screen, the photo of himself and Summer twisting his lips into a sad smile. A minute to go before they started.</p><p>And Clover was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>It wasn’t entirely unusual, he had to rush from class to bus to community centre, and he took a little longer than other people to make that half-walk, half-run. On the day they’d <em>met, </em>and Qrow had been a total ass to him in front of a roomful of reproachful depressives, Clover had wandered in ten seconds late with an easy breeze to him.</p><p>Qrow was only thinking about him now, his easy smile, the meaningful glint in his green eyes… well, because Clover was quickly becoming another name on the shortlist of people he was willing to <em>show up </em>for, in all situations, regardless of whether they were there to see it or not. When the time came to swap bigotry for understanding, and be calm and gentle with Weiss, it had been <em>Clover’s </em>voice he heard in his head. Not Tai’s tutting, or Summer’s coaxing, or Glynda’s raised brow and dry tone. It was Clover. Gentle voice, confident eyes, self-assured smile.</p><p>And it was Clover he was looking for now, unconsciously seeking, feeling an absence, as James pushed himself to his feet and cleared his throat.</p><p>James was surveying his notes, and then preparing himself to speak, when he paused and looked to the door.</p><p>In came Clover at last.</p><p>On two crutches.</p><p>Something like panic seized in Qrow’s chest, and he sprang to his feet. He could immediately feel his face burning as everyone turned to look at him, including James and Clover, and he lowered his outstretched hand, shutting his half-opened mouth. Red was rising in Clover’s cheeks now, and he pointedly looked away from Qrow. He made progress to an empty chair at the opposite side of the circle, and struggled for a moment with the juggling act of his crutches and book bag. When he was seated, Qrow realised he was still standing, and his face actually felt on fire right now.</p><p>He stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets and sunk his head into his collar as he stalked across the circle in three long strides and dropped himself into the seat next to Clover. The younger man was staring at him – as was everyone else – as if ready to object, but Qrow just sent him a short, sharp look that hopefully read <em>don’t bother. </em>He was here now, and here he would stay, melding his body in his seat around the shape of Clover’s abandoned crutches.</p><p>In all honesty, he couldn’t have even said what the session was about, which was probably all that needed to be said about what impact the sessions themselves were having on his mental health. All he knew was that James spent the entire hour pointedly avoiding the elephant in the room. Considerately giving Clover some much needed space, unlike Qrow. The entire hour, he was hyperaware of Clover’s every movement, a lightning rod for his every silent communication. He noticed Clover’s flesh toes flexing against the canvas of his sneaker, the way he couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position for his ankle. He also noticed Clover’s uncomfortable shifting every time Qrow glanced at him, tried to glean any kind of information about his mental and physical state.</p><p>“Please don’t treat me like that,” Clover said, and Qrow was suddenly aware with a shock of comprehension that the session was over, and the others were folding away their chairs.</p><p>“Like what?” he intoned, his voice gruff with disuse. Yeah, he definitely didn’t get much out of that session.</p><p>“Like I’m broken.”</p><p>Qrow looked at Clover sharply, ready to get angry and raise his voice, when he noticed that Clover was determinedly avoiding his gaze, his eyes glassy and pink. Qrow leaned in, his knee knocking against Clover’s thigh, and the younger man only averted his gaze with more determination. “What,” Qrow growled, “I’m not allowed to worry about you? You said you were doing okay – last time we spoke, you said you were feeling better and it was just a tough session.”</p><p>“Well, I <em>was </em>feeling better and it <em>was </em>just a tough session.”</p><p>“<em>Crutches, </em>Clover,” he hissed in answer, eyeing the leg that couldn’t have supported Clover’s weight without trembling and buckling. He wondered how bad the ulcers were, wondered what kind of pain was racking Clover’s body every time he set his weight on each joint and bone and muscle. “You should’ve told me.”</p><p>As everyone trailed out, Clover was glaring at a particular spot on the linoleum floor now, trying to burn a hole through it, but his eyes burned more cold than hot, which Qrow would have found interesting if he wasn’t setting his own blaze right now.</p><p>“Why would I have done that?” Clover asked, not even acknowledging the awkward wave James sent him before he snuck out of the room. Smart choice, Jimmy.</p><p>“Because I want to know,” Qrow set himself back on the chair with a grimness. “Because I care. I care about you – what happens to you.” He didn’t know if the save was convincing, wasn’t sure how much he cared in the moment.</p><p>Clover huffed at that, but it would take a blind man not to see that the fire in him was sputtering out. Hiked up shoulders gave way to slumped ones, and the hard set of his brow and jaw slackened. “I don’t like being like this.”</p><p>Qrow leaned into his right side, feeling his shoulder brush Clover’s jacket.</p><p>“I don’t like being like this. It makes me feel like…”</p><p>“Version one?” Qrow offered.</p><p>“Yeah,” Clover breathed, further melting down into his seat. The prickly, brusque exterior had melted into an exhausted interior, one with slumped shoulders and weary, dark circles under his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, I know that feeling,” he said. “Every time I’m having a bad day, and every bottle in the bar seems like it has my name on it. It’s shit.” There was nothing else to say, other than <em>it’s shit. </em>He knew that. Clover knew that. Anybody who’d ever watched in real time as their mental faculties buckled and groaned like there was grit in the gears knew that.</p><p>Qrow blustered out a breath that made his fringe flop in his eyes. It was getting overlong again. “Can I do anything?” he asked, mentally tallying all the time where he would be available to give Clover a ride, save him straining himself getting across campus or to the grocery store. “I work a lot, and I’ve got the kids a lot, but anytime you need me-“</p><p>There was a hand, warm and large, on his arm at that, and Qrow stared down at it with a faint sense of amazement. He knew, in theory, that Clover’s touch would light a fire under his skin, but knowing and experiencing were two different things. “It’s okay, Marrow’s already giving me rides most places,” Clover huffed out a small laugh. “He’s a good kid.”</p><p>It was utterly nonsensical and idiotic, but he couldn’t help the prickle of jealousy he felt at the fondness in Clover’s tone. “I’m serious,” he said in a low tone, “anything you need.”</p><p>“Well, there is one thing,” Clover said, hesitant and slow. He was back to pointedly avoiding Qrow’s gaze. “I get it if it’s too much-“</p><p>“Clover,” Qrow said, his voice as firm as steel, “anything.”</p><p>Clover let out a stuttering breath. “I have a, uh, PT session on Thursday,” he said, and Qrow was already halfway to offering him a ride when Clover was cutting him off, asking in a hurry, “could you come with me?”</p><p>Momentarily dumbfounded, Qrow just gawked.</p><p>“It’s dumb, and you’re busy, don’t worry,” the hand that was still resting on Qrow’s upper arm was placating now, and Clover was turning red.</p><p>“No, no,” Qrow said, scrambling. “Of course, I will. I’m just… surprised, is all.”</p><p>“My physio says I need the motivation, that I’m becoming defeatist,” Clover said, his cheeks still a delightful, bashful pink.</p><p>Qrow’s answering grin was wry. “Well, thank the gods you’re asking me along then.”</p><p>It made Clover laugh, so he reasoned the evils of self-deprecation were worth it.</p><p>But then again, there weren’t many things that Qrow <em>wouldn’t </em>do, if he could get Clover to laugh like that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm posting this early bc I literally can't wait to see what you guys think lolllll</p><p>BIG chapter, both in terms of word count &amp; of content, but one of my faves so far ;) hope you guys liked it! I hope nothing is TOO out of the blue lmao I hope I did a good enough job of laying clues and foreshadowing up to this point. And I think you'll all really love next week's chapter ;)</p><p>feedback is always loved and appreciated! I hope you're all happy &amp; healthy &lt;3</p><p>Tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @marrovvamin</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clover’s physiotherapy unit was a satellite building of the sprawling Vale General Hospital, and as Qrow pulled his car into a busy lot, he was vaguely grateful it was its own building, and he wouldn’t have to walk the halls he had when he’d been in and out of the ICU as often as he was allowed with Tai and Ruby to see Yang. The physio unit was the building where Yang now got her check-ups and consultations, but they were few and far between these days, as doctors had explained to Tai that the silver lining of Yang losing an arm at five years of age was that young children tended to bounce back like rubber balls, with adaptability and resilience that adults could only dream of.</p>
<p>He figured that was why the building and some of the reception staff were faintly familiar, but he knew none of their names, only giving a polite smile and nod to them and hurrying off when he’d spotted Clover, in an armchair in the waiting area. The taller man’s face lit up when he caught sight of Qrow, that heart-melting smile on his face. “Hey!” he greeted, waving his hand as relief sagged through his body. “You came!”</p>
<p>Qrow was struck with sudden worry that he was late – not unheard of – but faintly remembered two fifty-five on the dash before he’d gotten out of the car. So, had Clover just doubted whether he’d actually show up? Okay, now he had to pretend <em>that </em>didn’t hurt. “You thought I wouldn’t?” he asked, aiming for casual but likely missing by a mile.</p>
<p>Clover’s mouth only flapped for a moment, and he gritted his teeth. <em>“Not </em>what I meant,” he said. He flexed his hands a little uneasily, “I actually don’t know what I meant.”</p>
<p>Qrow made the conscious effort to brush it off - this wasn’t about him, after all – and tried to wipe away the tension in his shoulders. He leaned down and plucked Clover’s ever-present book bag off the floor, suppressing an <em>oof </em>as the weight of it nearly pulled him clean over. Gods, studious people were the <em>worst. </em>Qrow reckoned he’d slouched around campus most days with nothing but a folded square of paper and a pen in his back pocket. Which was probably <em>why </em>he’d had to invoke his law student best friend to argue his case to graduate, but whatever.</p>
<p>Clover gave him a look – the kind that said <em>you shouldn’t, but thanks </em>– and then pushed himself up off the couch and fluidly onto his crutches. “I just gotta get changed in the locker room, then we can head in. My physio should already be there.”</p>
<p>Qrow nodded, and followed him to the changing rooms. “Should <em>I </em>have brought workout clothes?” he asked with sudden realisation. Implying he <em>owned </em>workout clothes.</p>
<p>Clover chuckled. “No, you’ll be fine, unless you wanna join in on the geriatrics aerobics class down the hall.”</p>
<p>“Nearly <em>thirty, </em>Clover, not eighty” he grumbled. “Show a little respect for your elders.”</p>
<p>He was only looking at the back of Clover’s head, but he could tell from the lilt of his cheeks and the way his chest shook than he was laughing quietly to himself.</p>
<p>In the changing rooms, he slumped down onto a bench and leaned back languidly against the lockers. He politely – and determinedly – looked anywhere and everywhere else in the room as Clover stripped off, if not for propriety then for his own sanity. He didn’t know how he’d last an hour’s physical therapy with the guy if he saw him in his boxer briefs now.</p>
<p>He was doing a good job of being polite until he caught a glimpse of Clover’s flesh calf out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help himself; he turned his head a little and looked. The flesh was distended and swollen, with patches of purple and angry splotches of red, the lower part entirely bound in bandages, keeping the ulcers clean and providing compression. Qrow gritted his teeth. “That looks painful,” he said, not sure what else to say, and Clover grimaced.</p>
<p>“It’s okay. Marrow helps me change the dressing – he’s a student nurse – and the drugs are pretty good.”</p>
<p>“A real friend would share,” he gave Clover a wry smile, and it made him laugh.</p>
<p>“See, I <em>knew </em>you couldn’t just be here out of the goodness of your heart,” Clover chuckled, as he tied off a pair of BU basketball shorts.</p>
<p>Qrow softened his smile. “You should really get your leg painted,” he said, nodding at the plain gunmetal grey of Clover’s prosthetic. He was suddenly reminded of a doctor sitting at Yang’s bedside and explaining to her that there had been nothing they could do to save her arm, but they were already working with Pollendina Robotics to get her the most cutting edge prosthetic technology in the world. Yang’s only response had been to ask if they could make it yellow.</p>
<p>Clover looked down at the plain titanium and carbon fibre. “With what?” he asked, smirking.</p>
<p>Qrow pretending to think about it for a second, biting his lip. “Clovers,” he answered, and neatly dodged the pair of jeans that Clover threw at his head with a squawk of laughter.</p>
<p>“You’re the <em>worst,</em>” Clover bemoaned, taking hold of his crutches and pushing himself up off the benches.</p>
<p>Qrow was still giggling as he bundled the flying jeans into Clover’s book bag and dumped it all into a locker. He handed Clover the key with a sly wink. “And yet <em>you </em>asked me here, so really you’re just passing the blame.”</p>
<p>Clover rolled his eyes in a good natured fashion and pocketed the key. “Fair.”</p>
<p>Once he was ready, Clover headed for the swinging door that led to the main physical therapy suite, Qrow hot on his heels. It was a big room, lined on all sides with mirrors, almost like a gym or a dance studio. The floor was covered in springy foam, firm underfoot but still soft enough to cushion a fall, and there were padded areas for floor work and beams for support. There were a few people working around the room, of varying age and disability, either by themselves on their own exercises, or with uniformed physiotherapists.</p>
<p>“Elm!” Clover said, with a large smile and a wave, and a woman who towered over Qrow turned to them and grinned enthusiastically.</p>
<p>“Clover! Hey, hun,” she said, then poked her head dramatically sideways. Qrow immediately felt the need to shrink down into the hood of his sweater. “And Clover’s friend!” the woman was making gargantuan strides across the floor now, that would put even Qrow’s spindly legs to shame, and suddenly had his hand in a bone crushing grip. She shook so wildly that Qrow felt his shoulder groan in protest.</p>
<p>“Nice to meet you,” he said, wearing a strained smile. “I’m Qrow Branwen.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I <em>know,” </em>Elm said, her eyes practically boggling out her head and her grin spreading from ear to ear. “Clover doesn’t shut up about you!”</p>
<p>“Elm,” Clover complained in a sharp, whining tone that Qrow had never heard from him before. He might have smirked if he wasn’t at fear of losing his arm.</p>
<p>Elm eventually dropped his grip though, now throwing one hundred percent of her <em>intensity </em>at Clover. “Well, you <em>don’t,” </em>she insisted, which only deepened Clover’s grimace, “and I gotta say, I would’ve understood it if you’d told me how damn handsome he is.”</p>
<p>Qrow wasn’t sure who most wanted to fall through a sudden and tragic gaping hole in the floor, himself or Clover, who was about the colour of a tomato at this point. “I’m, uh, happy to be of assistance,” Qrow croaked out weakly, his fingers automatically worrying the feathers at the base of his skull.</p>
<p>Elm’s answering smile was just as enthusiastic as her earlier ones, but Qrow was somewhat relieved to shift the focus of the conversation away from his looks and Clover’s embarrassment. Not that the thought of Clover incessantly talking people’s ears off about him wasn’t stupidly sweet, sending lances of giddiness through Qrow’s belly. “Of course! It’s much appreciated, really, and I’m really hoping it can be the change of pace this one needs. We’ve got some tougher exercises today, because we don’t want his legs to become atrophied while he’s on his crutches. Clover is– well, you <em>know </em>Clover – he’s the perfect student, but prone to self-doubt, and my reassurance loses its effect after a while. That’s why you’re here, Qrow. To cheerlead!”</p>
<p>The thought of being Clover’s <em>cheerleader</em> only deepened the blossoming warmth in his cheeks, but he forced on an awkward smile. “Of course,” he said through his teeth.</p>
<p>“Awesome!” Elm said, either not picking up on or blatantly ignoring his awkwardness. “Well, Clover, how have you been getting on this week with the crutches, then? I’m glad that you’ll use them when you need them – a lot of patients are too stubborn for that, just end up hurting themselves.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s been okay, Elm. I’ve managed, and my doctor’s being really helpful. How are you, though? How’s Vine and the dog?”</p>
<p>That was how it begun and went on for a while, Elm and Clover striking up a conversation more akin to a friendship than that of healthcare provider and patient. While Clover was laid down on the floor and Elm was helping him through some painful stretches, Elm distracted him with a story about her dog – a floppy eared mutt – tearing apart a six-pack of toilet paper while Elm had been on the phone to her mother. Qrow followed Elm’s instruction, and she was so knowledgeable she made it feel really easy for him. At her instruction, he supported whatever Clover needed help supporting while Elm worked at weary and strained muscles, worn down with atrophy. At one point, one stretch on Clover’s flesh leg made the younger man unable to hold back his wince of pain, and Qrow unconsciously reached up and squeezed his hand. “You’re doing good,” he murmured, and the answering squeeze in his hand sent a jolt through his chest.</p>
<p>Elm was smiling at him with a devious look on her face, though, and it made him feel a little nervous. “Okay, great work Clover. I think we should change to parallel bars,” she said, and offered him a hand up from the floor.</p>
<p>Qrow only realised he was still holding Clover’s hand when the fingers slipped from his grasp. Elm handed back Clover’s crutches till they got to two wooden rails sat parallel to each other, and then helped him with the transition onto them, Clover heavily leaning his weight into his upper body and right leg to keep off of his bad one.</p>
<p>“This is where you prove your worth, Mr Branwen,” Elm told him with a knowing look, and nodded at the far end of the parallel bars.</p>
<p>Qrow took her lead, and went to the other side, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot as nerves coiled in his stomach like writhing eels. He was gonna <em>drop Clover, </em>he just knew it.</p>
<p>The younger man was watching him with a look of bemusement and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Uh, Qrow,” he said, one eyebrow arched. “How you gonna catch me from over there?”</p>
<p><em>Dumbass, </em>Qrow’s mind positively screamed at him, and he made a stuttering sound and immediately rushed to Clover’s front. “Uh, what do you need me to do, Cloves?” he asked, the endearment slipping out with all the grace of a tin can in the garbage disposal. By the <em>gods, </em>Qrow.</p>
<p>Clover either didn’t notice or didn’t mind, as he smiled up at him, a little strained, and said, “just keep me distracted and don’t let me hit the deck.”</p>
<p>With a concerted effort, Clover pushed his bad leg forward, prompting Qrow to back up a step, and winced as he shifted his weight onto it. “Right, uh, distraction,” Qrow said dumbly. “What should I distract you with?”</p>
<p>Clover’s laugh was practically musical, even with the pain writ large on his features. “What, I have to come up with distractions for you too?” he mused, giving Qrow a disbelieving look. “I don’t know! Tell me something I don’t know about you. Like, uh… what do you do for fun? When I’m not there, that is.”</p>
<p>His wicked wink was enough to make Qrow’s brain implode like a spoon in a microwave. Clover was close enough that his laboured breath rustled Qrow’s hair, and he backed up another step, beckoning the younger man forward. “I, uh, spend time with my family. Read.”</p>
<p>“Solve proofs?”</p>
<p>Qrow grinned. “I’m a bartender, Clover, I don’t do much calculus anymore.”</p>
<p>“Alright, what do you read?”</p>
<p>“Right now? I’m reading a romance novel about ninjas,” Qrow said, and the answering giggles made his chest feel lighter than air. “But I <em>am </em>capable of wading through political memoirs of White Fang leaders and histories of the Great War and suchlike.”</p>
<p>“And suchlike,” Clover said in affirmation, his brow creased with effort, sweat beading on his top lip. “What else?”</p>
<p>“I, uh,” Qrow stumbled over his words for a moment, unsure what to say, but then Clover winced and leaned entirely off his left leg, and Qrow swept in to steady him by his shoulders. “I play guitar!” he said hurriedly, as Clover shifted his weight uneasily.</p>
<p>“You can play guitar?”</p>
<p>Qrow frowned at the apparent surprise in his voice. “I mean, yeah, sometimes.”</p>
<p>“So, you’ve stopped, is what you’re saying,” Clover said, and Qrow had to roll his eyes at how ridiculously intuitive he was, reading the true meaning of Qrow’s words in the gaps and the hunch of his shoulders. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Life-“</p>
<p>“-is a bitch. Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know,” Clover leaned onto one of the rails, his breath coming in little pants, brow tightened in pain. He took a moment to catch his breath, then said, “You should play again,” his voice a little clipped.</p>
<p>“Why?” Qrow asked, a little stupidly. Dumbfounded by Clover’s interest in his musical abilities. He faintly realised he hadn’t seen or heard Elm in a hot minute, and looked up to see the physio standing well back with a knowing grin on her face, giving them a little privacy. Qrow had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.</p>
<p>“It could be good for you,” Clover said with the same light encouragement that a parent might use to convince their kid to join the Girl Scouts.</p>
<p>They had a rhythm going now, that he thought was helpful to Clover, Qrow edging one foot back a half step just a second before Clover edged forward. It was like a dance. “Why would that be? Or are you just patronising me to amuse yourself?” Qrow asked, watching Clover’s feet mirror his.</p>
<p>Clover gave a sharp roll of his eyes. “It’s a creative output, and it’s fun. And for the record, I do <em>not </em>patronise you to amuse myself,” he said determinedly. “I only patronise you when you need to be patronised.”</p>
<p>Qrow’s chest bubbled up with laughter. “And I defer to your judgement on that,” he said, and with a final push, he helped Clover to the end of the railing. “Nice one,” he said with a smile, noting he never once had to be ready to catch. Which was a good thing, because his best assessment said Clover falling into Qrow’s arms would only result in Qrow being a cushion to break Clover’s fall to the ground. Which was likely what he deserved, after having agreed to help Clover in a PT session without any thought for his toothpick physique.</p>
<p>“Okay, okay,” Clover breathed heavily at the end of the bars, taking a moment to rest and gather himself. “Go again?” he asked Qrow, and Qrow immediately nodded.</p>
<p>“Take as much of a break as you need, though,” he warned, walking back to the far end of the bars and round to stand before Clover. Elm was watching their progress and scribbling furiously in a notepad – or, at least, she was pretending to. Once Qrow was back within catching distance, Clover swivelled himself around slightly awkwardly. “You ready to go again?” Qrow asked, a little surprised.</p>
<p>But Clover had a ponderous look on his face, and instead said, “You up for a bet?”</p>
<p>“Hmm? What kind of bet?”</p>
<p>“The kind where, if I can walk the bars without needing your help, you go home and play the guitar for me?” Clover asked shyly, giving him a charming smile.</p>
<p>Qrow winced. “I’m not going to let you fall on your face for a bet, Clover.”</p>
<p>Clover looked up to Elm meaningfully, who was chewing on her lip as though she was actually considering it. Oh, come on<em>. </em>“It would be a good confidence builder,” she said, with a thoughtful shrug.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>come on!” </em>Qrow whined, waving an arm at the truly sadistic grin on Clover’s face. “Is that the look of a man in need of <em>more </em>confidence?”</p>
<p>Clover laughed. “Seriously, Qrow? Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s mean to argue with guys with one leg?”</p>
<p>“Can it, Ebi,” Qrow grumbled, then stepped back and wearily dragged a hand over his face. “Okay,” he said with a huff. “But I <em>will </em>run in and catch you if you wobble. So, if you wanna win, this had better be like you’re trying to convince the cop that pulled you over that you haven’t been drinking.”</p>
<p>“You know what that’s like?” Clover asked, incredulous, as he started off an uneasy shuffle along the bars.</p>
<p>Qrow arched an eyebrow, shrugged his shoulders. Willed his heart to stop pounding as he watched for any uncertainty in Clover’s stride. “Hello, my name is Qrow, and I’m an alcoholic.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Qrow. I’m Clover, and I’ve got one leg.”</p>
<p>Qrow snorted. “Y’know, that went better than the <em>actual </em>first time we spoke,” he said.</p>
<p>“Oh gods,” Clover thought, cringing hard. “<em>Don’t </em>bring that up. Could I have <em>been </em>more patronising?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, could I have been more self-pitying?”</p>
<p>Clover shuffled himself on one more step, and Qrow noticed he was barely even using the bars anymore, just hovering a light grip over them as a precaution. “Mmm, we’ll just have to work harder on being perfect.”</p>
<p>Qrow scoffed. “Welll, <em>that </em>you’ve got a head start on,” he said dryly.</p>
<p>Clover only raised his eyebrows, then dug in for the final push. The right foot took his weight and braced it with ease, the left one had more of a distinct quiver to it, and Clover’s frame tightened up like a vice when he leaned on it, but he was doing it. Right, left, right, left – one more step.</p>
<p>And then, with a gasp of air and a grunt, Clover released the titanic effort, having achieved his goal, and Qrow wrapped his arms around him to take some of his considerable weight.</p>
<p>Clover leaned into him heavily, his arms looped around Qrow’s neck, and he could <em>definitely </em>hear how Qrow’s breath stuttered. But Qrow didn’t care. He just held him for a moment, felt his heart thrumming from the effort, the slight dampness of his skin, his laboured breath. His <em>warmth,</em> the way he smelled like laundry powder and citrusy body wash.</p>
<p>Qrow’s heart was quite literally pounding.</p>
<p>He went home and he brushed the dust off the guitar in his room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I say this is my favourite chapter so far that has been uploaded.... I hope you guys liked reading it as much as I liked writing it :)</p>
<p>Sorry for the slowness of comment replies this week, my job has been insane but I've also been writing some biggg emotional beats that come later on in the story that you all have to look forward to ;) all in good time</p>
<p>Your feedback fuels this entire endeavour &lt;3</p>
<p>Tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @marrovvamin</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A lazy Tuesday afternoon saw Qrow dicing vegetables, absent-minded, while he watched the girls play in the back garden out the window. His finger tips were a little sore - he’d spent most of the morning idly plucking away at his guitar strings, and most of the night before that learning the chords to a song that the radio had wedged firmly in his head. He couldn’t remember exactly when he’d last been regularly playing, but it was enough for the callouses on his fingers to have softened and withered like a neglected muscle. His voice was croaky and weak with disuse, like a set of dusty pipes on an organ, and his throat got sore after only a song or two, quietly hummed in the privacy of his bedroom, but he’d get there. Like riding a bicycle.</p>
<p>He looked down at the reddened patches on his fingertips now, rested against the chopping board. At the softened skin, at the guitarist’s hands. Long, thin fingers with bird-like bones, adorned with bands of black and silver. The scar tissue on his knuckles and long healed slashes on his palms from a past spent throwing punches and breaking glass. His nails were cut short - nearly elegant on a good day, ragged and chewed on a bad one - and the inky feathers of a bird in flight peeked out at his wrist from under his long-sleeved shirt.</p>
<p>In his palm, with slender fingers wrapped around the wooden hilt, was a kitchen knife that had been dulled and resharpened over and over again. On the weathered chopping board, the kind of produce he might’ve once walked past but now went into his shopping cart to keep the girls strong and healthy. He marvelled at the fact that not so long ago, this all seemed so out of reach, and he’d traded a life of walking around feeling like he was drowning in his own body, his own lungs, with a life in a nook he’d carved out for himself.</p>
<p>Weiss came over to play most days after school now. As Qrow went about prepping their dinner, the girls were running, breathless and laughing, around the garden, playing some kind of tag game. Ruby was quick, and never ended up being <em>it </em>for long, and Yang was strong, leaping over discarded toys and barreling about with abandon, but Weiss was <em>smart </em>and propelled herself up the apple tree with her skinny limbs to avoid Yang’s <em>tag. </em>The small, skinny girl laughed breathlessly from the branches too thin to support Yang’s taller, stockier frame. Yang decried this as cheating, but Weiss knew she had won and watched with satisfaction as the taller girl gave up on her and started chasing after Ruby instead. Qrow caught Weiss’s eye from the kitchen window and gave her a thumbs up, and the pale-haired girl smiled broadly, accepting his approval eagerly.</p>
<p>Qrow portioned out the last of the vegetables for the soup, but startled when his phone rattled against the wooden window sill. Thankfully still with five whole fingers on each hand, he put down the knife and wiped his hands on the tea towel tossed over his shoulder, then reached for the phone.</p>
<p><b>Clover Ebi: </b>wednesday sounds good to me! just tell me where :) x</p>
<p>Qrow’s chest was overcome with the same swooping sensation that he was quickly coming to associate with the name ‘Clover Ebi’. Clover had recently expressed interest in seeing where Qrow worked, saying it was only fair when Qrow seemed to know everything about Clover’s life whilst remaining largely a mystery himself, but the understanding that perhaps home and family was a little too familiar at this point in their… friendship. It <em>was </em>a friendship, Qrow told himself. Willed the thudding in his chest to slow. He was not going to get ahead of himself every time someone good looking gave him the time of day. <em>Good-smelling, too, </em>his mind helpfully supplied the memory of Clover in his arms and his soft scent.</p>
<p><b>Me: </b>its the Witchery, on 5th av between 16th and 17th opposite from dust til dawn. cant miss it x</p>
<p>There was a brief pause and Qrow watched the three dots rise and fall on his phone screen, trying to ignore the way his insides were wriggling like worms.</p>
<p><b>Clover Ebi: </b>I thought u said u worked near BU?? x</p>
<p>Oh. Right. A white lie he’d told as an excuse to give Clover a ride that Monday, and then every Monday since, showing up ten minutes late to work and staying late to wash all the dishes so that Glynda wouldn’t mention it. Well, the jig was up. He should’ve been more embarrassed at the lengths he was willing to go to in order to spend time with Clover - gatecrashing physical therapy sessions, refusing to acknowledge entire city blocks and queues of traffic, hell, <em>doing assigned homework. </em>It was all very… not cool. Not Qrow Branwen at any rate.</p>
<p><em>I lie- </em>he typed out, then backspaced.</p>
<p><em>Maybe I just like spending time with you- </em>way worse. Delete.</p>
<p><b>Me: </b>and I thought that someone who hails from a city that is basically two metropolises smashed together would have realised that Vale isn’t a big city ;) x</p>
<p>He watched the three dots dance for a second and pressed his teeth together. Stupid, dumb thing to lie about, getting caught redhanded like a moron- the distant sound of a car engine pulling up and cutting out was enough to yank him from the whirlpool of his thoughts and he hastily typed out-</p>
<p><b>Me: </b>Tai home with groceries so its feeding time at the zoo ;) talk later x</p>
<p>-before Clover could even reply to the earlier message. He cast his phone down on the sill and went to go help Tai with a zeal that was practically unheard of.</p>
<p>He found Tai hunched over the trunk of the car and piling shopping bags onto himself like he was a pack mule. Tai was so shocked by Qrow’s enthusiasm at unloading groceries of all things that he clipped his head on the overhanging trunk door. “<em>Ah, </em>f-fiddle. Hey, Qrow,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>Qrow hid a snicker with a bite of his lip, knowing from experience that Tai was quick to anger when he was smarting. “Lemme get the rugrats out here,” he said in lieu of greeting, and slipped round the side of the small house. “Kids! Come help with the groceries!”</p>
<p>Whilst his own two nieces scowled and groaned, Weiss chirped a polite, “Yes, Mr Qrow!” And then there were three small girls following him back round the front of the house to the car. With Tai lumbering inside with the brunt of the shopping, Qrow doled out the work equally among the rest of the team. That was to say - Weiss and Yang took a handle each on one of the medium sized bags, with Yang bearing the brunt of the weight on her <em>super strong superhero arm </em>with a look of beaming pride, and Ruby was given the grave task of bearing and protecting a bag of dried pasta. Qrow sent the troops marching into the house and then heaved the rest of the shopping up onto his skinny frame. He shut the trunk with a click, and Tai, who had already returned to help, hit the lock button on the keys. “Seriously, Tai, it’s nearly been a year and I <em>still </em>don’t believe we actually need all this to eat in a week.”</p>
<p>Tai shot him the most familiar lilting grin in the world. “What can I say? My children are animals,” he laughed. Neither man acknowledged that the food shop had grown in size since Weiss started coming round most days, but the fact that Tai was back at work full time now and not just getting paid personal leave was helping in the finance department. Besides, neither of them could ever begrudge the look of joy on Weiss’s face as she dug into ice cream and jello with Ruby and Yang. Money was for the grown ups to worry about, and the implicit agreement was that they’d protect the girls from that for as long as possible.</p>
<p>Then, Tai’s grin faltered. “It really has been nearly a year, hasn’t it?”</p>
<p>Qrow gritted his teeth. A year since Summer… and <em>Yang… </em>and he’d moved in nearly immediately after, more to save Tai from finding his slumped body in a pool of vomit and store-label liquor than anything else. The difference a year could make, huh? “Yeah. Pretty soon.”</p>
<p>Tai nodded, his expression cloudy. “I need to order flowers, then,” he thought aloud, then turned and went back into the house, leaving Qrow to follow.</p>
<p>That was how Tai ended tough conversations.</p>
<p>Qrow made a mental note to phone around local florists tomorrow after he’d dropped Ruby at nursery and get something organised for the first anniversary of Summer’s death. He’d let Tai make the final decision, as was his right, Summer had been <em>his </em>wife after all, but if Qrow could save him being worried about one more thing, he would. <em>Gods. </em>Even if part of him was starting to accept it, it still wasn’t any less painful to think of those two words in conjunction yet. Summer and dead.</p>
<p>Qrow blew out a sharp, staccato breath, left the gloom at the front door and went into the house to finish off dinner for the kids.</p>
<p>It was only when Qrow put down his load of shopping bags in the kitchen that he spotted something peaking out from the top of the bag. A box of washable markers in rainbow hues and a heavy pad of white paper. The side of his mouth ticked up. Tai had been hesitant to give the girls markers ever since the luminous pink incident, when Ruby had let loose on every wall and piece of furniture downstairs with a distinct and hard-to-miss shade. It had taken Qrow and Tai all afternoon to scrub it out of the cushion covers alone and then, all artistic endeavours had been confined to pencils and crayons - harder to devalue the house with. Qrow looked up to his brother-in-law, who was currently stashing bell peppers in the drawers of the refrigerator, and quirked a questioning eyebrow.</p>
<p>Tai followed his line of sight and gave what could only be described as an apologetic wrinkle of his nose. “They asked nicely,” he explained, and crossed the kitchen to pluck the items out of the top of Qrow’s grocery bag.</p>
<p>Having completed the mission of moving supplies from car to kitchen, the girls had already liberated cartons of apple juice from a shopping bag and were climbing up into their seats at the kitchen table to enjoy their reward on a job well done. Which - <em>okay, </em>they could’ve asked, but neither Qrow nor Tai was about to get snippy over apple juice, especially in front of Weiss, and it wasn’t like they were ruining their dinner. Ruby clapped excitedly when she saw what gifts her father was bearing, and immediately started a tug of war with Yang as soon as they were placed on the kitchen table.</p>
<p>“Hey, be nice, there’s more than enough markers for everybody,” Qrow chided. It was a pointless thing for them to struggle over anyway, because as soon as Yang popped open the top of the box, she immediately honed in on her usual (obnoxious) sunshine yellow, where Ruby immediately plucked out a vibrant red. Like clockwork. Qrow winced at Ruby’s favoured stoplight shade and thought faintly that they’d soon figure out how <em>washable </em>the markers were. “What do you say to Dad?”</p>
<p>“Thank you!” His nieces chorused in that sing song way of theirs that sounded slightly forced, and he rolled his eyes in a good natured fashion.</p>
<p>Weiss said a more delicate “Thank you,” as she plucked a pretty shade of cornflower blue from the box.</p>
<p>Immediately, though, Ruby was tearing pages out of the pad of paper, pulling out more markers and handing them round with military precision. “Weiss has pretty writing,” she reasoned, passing Weiss a thinner black marker from the box.</p>
<p>“<em>And </em>she can spell the big words. <em>I </em>can draw the costume and the laser beam eyes-“ Yang babbled excitedly, plucking alarming shades of red and orange from the box.</p>
<p>Qrow felt his brow furrow, knowing better than to ignore his nieces when his instincts said something was going on. That’s how you end up sitting on whoopee cushions. He looked to Tai for guidance, but Tai was only grinning at the girls with pride. “Uhhh… what’s going on?” Qrow hazarded to ask.</p>
<p>Ruby only threw him her patented <em>keep up, old man </em>look, and Yang was already engrossed in drawing laser eyes of all things, so it fell to Weiss to answer. “Well,” she began. Her voice was still quiet and wavering, but simply hanging around with his boisterous nieces was already helping to cure her jumpiness around loud things. Not for the first time, Qrow faintly wondered how quiet that gigantic house on Atlas Boulevard was. “Blake likes books,” Weiss explained, “I like books too, and Yang likes action heroes, and Ruby <em>loves </em>to colour in, so we thought we could make Blake her own book.”</p>
<p>“About us kicking bad guy <em>butt!” </em>Yang’s yellow hand punched the air, and the soppy look on Tai’s face said he thought this was all way too sweet to bother chiding the violence and language.</p>
<p>Which Qrow could understand, as he felt his heart swelling in his chest. Godsdamn kids, being so godsdamn sweet all the time, with their little pudgy faces and the thoughtful gestures they were way too young to realise were <em>thoughtful, </em>just normal and unconscious choices to them. He was especially happy with Weiss, who, not a week ago had been uneasy at the thought of even speaking to the Faunus girl. He couldn’t help but hope that his own revelation and baring of his soul to her might have had some impact and set her on a better path.</p>
<p>That was all this parenting thing was, wasn’t it? Aside from the obvious caretaking, of course. You just had to give them tools and information to make decisions with, and hope they made the right ones. Be proud of them when they got it right, and <em>tell </em>them you’re proud of them, but be ready to catch them when they fell.</p>
<p>He’d thought unfair things about Tai’s foray into parenthood before. <em>Said </em>unfair things, too. Summer had been a natural parent, a bit of a mother hen in their little team, and Raven had always been coldly, unfairly <em>brilliant </em>at everything she turned her hand to. But Tai? Qrow had tried to warn him when Raven had fallen pregnant, telling him he wasn’t ready - what twenty-two year old, apart from his coolly perfect sister, was ready to be a parent? But Tai had rebuked him every time. <em>No one is ever ready to be a parent, Qrow, you just learn on the job.</em></p>
<p>It had been the first real schism in their friendship. In college, they’d been so similar in so many ways that Qrow hadn’t even gotten weird about Tai getting with his sister, because he couldn’t imagine a scenario where <em>he </em>would be able to resist the challenge presented by a pretty girl who barely deigned to acknowledge your existence. And that’s what he had thought it was, <em>fun, </em>a challenge, even as it continued past graduation. But then there had been a pregnancy in the picture - Qrow had staunchly refused to think of it as a baby - and then there had been a blow-out argument in Tai and Raven’s tiny shoebox apartment by the docks, a sketchy neighbourhood overpopulated by foreign faunus like Qrow and Raven struggling to find a day’s pay.</p>
<p>Tai hadn’t been ready. How could he possibly be ready? He was a dope-smoking skirt-chaser with a soft spot for cheap bourbon and a tendency to sit back and let the wind blow him wherever it may, just like Qrow. He’d told him as much, and asked him <em>do you know how easy it is to fuck up a child, Tai? </em>Like it was a foregone conclusion that that was exactly what would happen.</p>
<p>Raven had only been staring at her twin disinterestedly over her cuticles, more than used to his outbursts at this point, and Summer had glared and hissed “<em>Qrow.”</em></p>
<p>But Tai? Tai had just looked him dead in the eye and said <em>“Are you sure it’s me that you’re scared will fuck up the kid, Branwen?” </em>And Qrow had flinched at his own last name.</p>
<p>It was a deeply uncomfortable memory now, though unfortunately not the worst of them, and Qrow snapped himself out of it with a shake of his head, coming back to the girls sat around the kitchen table, drawing a comic book for their friend, and Tai grinning proudly at them all. So much for <em>not ready, </em>huh?</p>
<p>Except Tai wasn’t grinning at the kids anymore. He was back over to the shopping bags and searching around for something, until he pulled out another notebook. This one was smaller, with a black and white dappled cover, and Qrow realised immediately what it was. “It’s half lined and half sheet music,” Tai said with a shrug, just loud enough for Qrow to hear as the girls chattered excitedly in the background. “I heard you playing your guitar last night, and I just thought…”</p>
<p>He thought that Qrow wouldn’t have anywhere to write down chord progressions or lyrics he thought of, because that was exactly the kind of thing that got thrown out and burnt up after…. Well, after. The thought of a wiry man who hadn’t eaten properly in weeks, standing on the curb outside Tai’s house, made him shudder. Twenty-eight years old and with only a battered acoustic and a duffle bag of clothes to his name.</p>
<p>With a gruff “<em>C’mere</em>”, Qrow yanked Tai into a hug, and the broader man let out a soft <em>oof.</em></p>
<p>This was how they said sorry. This was how they said <em>I love you. </em>With thoughtful gestures and words known but left unsaid. With never leaving, never giving up, only pure, unshakeable loyalty. Summer would have rolled her eyes at them and their emotional and verbal constipation, but secretly, her heart would have been fluttering in her chest as she watched her two most important men say <em>I love you </em>in their own way.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Qrow said when he pulled back, ignoring the croak in his voice.</p>
<p>“No, thank <em>you </em>for trying. I know none of this can be easy for you, going to therapy and getting better and stuff. But you’re making such an effort,” the <em>for us </em>went unsaid, but Tai squeezed his upper arm in a show of gratitude and all was understood.</p>
<p>Qrow smiled, but felt uneasy taking all the praise. “I don’t know how much of it is my effort,” he said quietly, more to his shoes than anything. “Clover, the guy from group… he’s the one who got me playing again.”</p>
<p>Tai didn’t know that much about Clover, which was actually kind of a big deal now that Qrow thought about it. Usually, it was the easiest thing in the world to regale Tai with the story of whatever cutesy girl or stupidly broad jock type guy had caught his attention this week, but Clover somehow felt different. Like he was private, something for Qrow and Qrow alone, and whatever they had between them was something to be guarded and tended like the delicate petals of a rosebud in bloom. His brother-in-law tracked the pink spots on Qrow’s cheeks, and his small, secretive smile, and said, “Well, maybe Clover would appreciate a song.”</p>
<p>It was so old school <em>them </em>that Qrow felt something pang deep in his chest. Qrow had always been a charmer, talented at saying just the right thing and tugging his thin pink lips in just the right way to get underwear shimmied down over hips. But on the rare occasion that he met someone who made him think beyond <em>find, fuck, forget, </em>he’d gone straight to Tai. Because Tai had two long-term relationships to Qrow’s big fat zero, two relationships that had born children no less.</p>
<p>Tai just understood…</p>
<p>Feelings, he understood feelings.</p>
<p>Yeah, no, the L word and Clover Ebi would <em>not </em>be in conjunction in Qrow’s brain anytime soon, for fear of causing an aneurism.</p>
<p><em>Maybe Clover would appreciate a song, </em>Qrow thought as Tai went back to the kids, fielding any spelling queries and throwing out his own ideas for plot points and twists. <em>Maybe, indeed.</em></p>
<p>Qrow did just that later on, hitting record on his phone and idly strumming through a dreamed up chord progression, lyrics finding him and radiating out of his chest in a throaty symphony.</p>
<p><b>Me: </b>[Video attached] a deal’s a deal x</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you liked it, guys! More of a family episode but laying some STRQ groundwork that will be important later &amp; also integrating Clover a little more into Qrow's little group of Very Important People :)</p>
<p>Let me know what you think &lt;3</p>
<p>Tumblr:     main @thursdayseraph     rwby sb @marrovvamin</p>
<p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ts8SHuk8RmZ8ZmlE3X1yG?si=Ratw008kTB6O0Y7pUIOEVA">spotify playlist</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The video didn’t cross Qrow’s mind much at all the next day. He’d spent the first hour nervously checking for the two blue checks that meant Clover had seen the message, but when they didn’t come, he tried to reassure himself that the other man was probably just on some kind of horrendous time crunch in the library. Dizzying hours, mind bending work, all for a piece of paper that some teacher’s assistant would look at once and assign an arbitrary grade - Qrow remembered the trauma well. So, when Clover didn’t reply to him at all that night, he simply put it from his mind. They were grown men with lives and responsibilities, he couldn’t expect Clover to be tethered to his phone. In fact, Qrow admitted, that was a trait he always found spectacularly <em>unattractive. </em>So, shit, what did he <em>want </em>from Clover?</p>
<p>He’d just kept on practicing that afternoon and evening, his hands toughening up again under the strings, his fingertips finding positions that should have long been lost to the sands of time but were still somehow indelibly etched into his brain. He’d even dragged himself down to the living room when his nieces had heard the music and demanded he play for them so they could practice for their choir audition next week. Qrow had obliged with only a faked hesitance and had kept his expression schooled straight when the girls got a little pitchy (if he wasn’t a great uncle, he’d describe it as screechy). “Hey, at least you know they’re yours,” he’d said to Tai after the girls were in bed, and had narrowly avoided a couch pillow to the face.</p>
<p>And then, today, he hadn’t had a spare moment to think much about <em>anything. </em>Tai and Yang had slept in by fifteen minutes in the morning, reducing the usually militaristic morning routine to a mad dash, and Qrow had been left with the carnage. Between that and minding Ruby, his morning had been hectic, and then the second he’d gotten into work it had gone from bad to worse. Robyn shouldn’t have even been <em>at </em>work, she was so sick, but had been so dead against leaving Glynda short staffed that she dragged herself in anyway. Qrow had had a bit of an argument with her as soon as he got in, asking why the hell she hadn’t just called out sick, and she’d mumbled something about not wanting to pressure a guy with kids to take care of to cover her. He’d sighed, given her shoulder a squeeze in thanks, and sent her home. He and Glynda would be ample cover for a Wednesday night.</p>
<p>The pair of them had been collecting dirty glasses and bemoaning self-sacrificing twenty-somethings when they were interrupted by a cheery, “Hey!”</p>
<p>Qrow looked up from his work, and somehow avoided smashing every glass he had stacked in his arms, because the sight he was greeted with knocked the wind straight from his chest.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I know we said next week after group,” Clover had a placating hand raised. He was wearing his favoured sweater and jeans, his book bag slung over one shoulder, his hair pleasantly fluffy, like he’d been stressing it with his hands all day. He was balancing his weight on a cane rather than full crutches this week, Qrow noted, with a pang of something warm in his chest. “But <em>what the hell? </em>You said you <em>played </em>guitar, Qrow, not that you’re a damn crooner who canmake all the panties drop.”</p>
<p>It took Qrow more than a moment to comprehend his meaning, the day had been so clogged and stressful and non-stop that pretty much anything that wasn’t directly related to work and kids seemed to have dropped out of his head. Then he remembered - the guitar, the video, the (soft) drink scheduled post group and pre work next Monday. A violent blush coloured his cheeks. <em>Not aiming for </em>all<em> the panties, just one set in particular,</em> his brain helpfully supplied, which only served to darken the shade of his face as he resolutely tried <em>not </em>to imagine Clover in panties.</p>
<p>Before he could respond, Glynda was coming over, saving him from himself with one eyebrow arched. “No panties dropped in this bar on a weekday evening, please,” she said in her trademark dry tone, passing a disapproving look from Qrow to Clover and back again.</p>
<p>Qrow felt his every muscle tighten in a full body <em>cringe, </em>but Clover merely laughed easily and said, “Sorry, ma’am, you must be Glynda.” He was wearing his easygoing, charming boy scout smile and he thrust out the hand not resting on his cane.</p>
<p>Glynda considered him for a second, one eyebrow still ticking upwards in skepticism, then she extended one manicured hand and shook. “And judging by… well, <em>everything, </em>you must be Clover,” she said dryly. Her gaze lingered on Clover’s shoulders, to his hips, to his blinding smile, and Qrow was suddenly sure that if he wasn’t already the shade of a tomato, he would be going darker. This was some sort of punishment for something he’d done wrong in his life, and whether it was being passed down by Glynda Goodwitch or the infinite cosmos, there was little difference.</p>
<p>Clover had the good grace to look confused for a second, gaze darting between the two old friends with an expression that said he knew he was missing something. Qrow had been so blindsided by everything about him the first few times they’d met that he actually enjoyed seeing Clover making his first impression from an outside perspective. It was perhaps sadistic of Qrow to enjoy the first slip of the joyously confident mask, but it was of no matter, because Clover had firmly pepped himself back up within a moment. “Have <em>you </em>heard him sing, Glynda?” He asked, “Do you know the undiscovered talent you’ve got on your hands here?”</p>
<p>Glynda folded her arms over her chest and turned that look of hers on Qrow in full force - the look that made him feel like his spine was scrunching up into a slinky and about to spring from his body in a great escape. “No, I don’t think I have,” her tone was accusatory and, against the white blouse covering her upper arm, her fingernails looked like talons.</p>
<p>Qrow finally found his voice again, even if it was scratchy and weak. “I’m not <em>that</em> g-“ he protested.</p>
<p>Clover interrupted him, and Qrow faintly wondered if he even needed to be in this conversation at all, these two were doing such a good job without him so far. “Oh come on, Qrow, show a little self-belief. You have a <em>beautiful </em>voice in the video you sent me. It’s like… like woodsmoke and whisky,” Clover said. Qrow fought the immediate and humiliating urge to hide his face in his shirt collar. “You could be selling out venues with a voice like that!”</p>
<p>Now <em>that </em>pricked Glynda’s attention. “<em>Oh?” </em>She said.</p>
<p>Qrow took one look at her patented scheming face and felt dread settle in his stomach like a lead weight. He was suddenly remembering dumb suggestions of live music coming from his <em>own </em>mouth to try to get the books back in the green.</p>
<p>And, gods help him, an identical scheming look was crossing Clover’s pretty face too, his green eyes taking on a mischievous glint that Qrow had yet to witness. “Yeah! I bet you he could sell out a music night here no problem, with the right advertising!”</p>
<p>Glynda looked at Qrow, and Qrow knew he couldn’t say no, because hadn’t they <em>just </em>been arguing about the books being redder than a slasher movie last week?</p>
<p>“Fine,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>Glynda nodded, very satisfied with herself, and Clover positively <em>beamed.</em></p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you… happy to do this, Qrow?”</p>
<p>They’d driven in silence for a few minutes after Qrow had picked Clover up from the library the next day. The radio was playing softly in the background - some upbeat pop song - and Qrow had divided his attention between the way the spring sun was making Clover’s hair glow like molten chocolate, and resolutely <em>not </em>crashing the car and killing them both out of sheer stupidity. It wasn’t like the guy made it easy for him, the way his head was leaning wistfully against the window, his eyes shut as he soaked up the warmth of the sun, his fingers drumming on the length of his cane. Lashes that could swat flies, and the barest suggestion of freckles clustering on the bridge of his proud nose.</p>
<p>“Hm?” Qrow murmured, having barely heard the question. He was now concentrated on crossing the intersection, thankfully, although he’d be lying if he said that the renewed focus on his driving wasn’t at least partially to do with the intensity that Clover was now studying him with.</p>
<p>Faintly, he wondered what Clover saw when he looked at Qrow? Did he do the wistful, moronic, in-depth study of his features in the warm afternoon glow? Did he feel the same squeezing pressure around his heart and lungs, as he thought <em>it’s enough to look, more than enough. More than I deserve.</em></p>
<p>Qrow shoved the fantasy out of his head with a scrunching of his nose. They were <em>friends, </em>and the sooner Qrow could get that through his thick skull and stop pretending they were anything more, the better.</p>
<p>“Are you happy? With the gig? Thinking about it, we kinda steam rolled you into it-“</p>
<p>Which, okay, if ever there were two people who could meet the description of unstoppable force versus immovable object, Qrow reckoned it might as well be Glynda and Clover. But he was quick to raise a placating hand. “I’m saying this with total sincerity, and you can ask literally anybody in my life for reference on what a stubborn bastard I am. If I don’t want to do something, you can’t make me do it,” he said. And it was true, even if the gig had been their idea and he’d apparently only begrudgingly agreed, something thrilled in him at the idea of it, being able to show off something he was proud of. “If I didn’t know this was something I’d rise to and enjoy as well, I wouldn’t have agreed to it. I’m not easily bullied.”</p>
<p>Qrow could spot a vague flapping motion out of the corner of his eye, Clover’s jaw going up and down as he searched for the right thing to say. Then, the younger man seemed to come to terms with Qrow’s words, gave a small nod, and said “Okay then.”</p>
<p>Satisfied, Qrow let the quiet settle back in, barely nodding his head along to the song on the radio.</p>
<p>It was a split-second decision, but he took an early left at the next intersection. He swung onto a familiar section of the A59, a half-remembered phone conversation on his mind, and soon, both sides of the road were lined with cherry blossoms in vivid bloom.</p>
<p>“Oh man, I had been <em>wanting </em>to see this,” Clover said wistfully, and Qrow’s chest gave a sympathetic pang as he thought of the independence Clover was lacking right now. Qrow knew he would’ve bridled at not being able to do something as simple as walk downtown to see the cherry blossoms in bloom, feeling like a bird with its wings clipped, and he was suddenly sure he’d made the right decision.</p>
<p>Just as Clover reached to roll down the window, Qrow reached to turn up the radio. It was a simple song playing now, piano and rich vocals, and Qrow found himself singing along as Clover reached for drifting petals, a flurry of pink snow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A shorter chapter this week, but an important connecting chapter! Sorry for the later update and the lack of replies to comments, I am currently trying to buy an apartment and my workplace is severely understaffed 🙃 but such is life. I WILL get to all the comments, I promise, I’m sorry and I love and appreciate every one of them.</p>
<p>I’m kind of catching up on myself as far as prewritten chapters are concerned for aforementioned reasons, but I’m really hoping I can keep updating weekly. If that’s going to change I will warn you though! I’ve also made a kofi but sksjsjsjs you are obviously under zero obligation, your love is enough.</p>
<p>All feedback is greatly appreciated!</p>
<p>Thanks so much for all the continued support &lt;3</p>
<p>kofi: https://ko-fi.com/shannedo<br/>tumblr: https://thursdayseraph.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They got back to the house, and Qrow carefully shut his door behind him. There was a brief fumble between car keys and house keys, and it took Clover a moment to get up out of the car and comfortably onto his cane, and Qrow wished not for the first time that his car wasn’t set so awkwardly low for Clover.</p>
<p>But then, they were into the house - and really, this house was beautiful, with the sun streaming in through the windows from all sides like that, turning the cream walls a buttery yellow. It was nothing special, and Qrow was quick to warn Clover of that, hurriedly apologising for the piles of child debris he hadn’t had the time to clean between dropping Ruby at nursery and picking Clover up from college.</p>
<p>Clover only raised a placating hand and said, “You have a lovely home. Tell you brother-in-law, too.”</p>
<p>Qrow smiled widely, taking Clover’s book bag and jacket for him, leaving them at the foot of the stairs and draped over the bannister. “D’you wanna take a seat while I go fix us drinks?”</p>
<p>Clover arched an eyebrow. “Don’t coddle me, please,” he grumbled, and determinedly made to follow Qrow to the kitchen.</p>
<p>Qrow flushed, his stomach twisting uneasily. And why <em>was </em>he being so weird? He’d never once felt the urge to treat Yang like she needed to be wrapped in bubblewrap, but maybe that had just been a symptom of her particular circumstance? An arm that was there one day and gone the next, with no lengthy illness or pain, all happening to a kid who had the ability to bounce back like a rubber ball. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to,” he said, and stepped backwards to lead Clover to the kitchen, “I just…” <em>You just what? </em>His mind came up blank in a blaring alarm. <em>Want to take care of you?</em> Gods, maybe he should’ve just killed them both in a car crash, at least the agony would’ve been over quickly. “Care,” he settled on. <em>I just care. </em>Good one, Qrow. He should write that into a song.</p>
<p>Clover sighed his resignation. “I know, I know it comes from a good place,” he said, “I know it's a lot at first but you’ll get used to it. Seeing me a bit… breakable.”</p>
<p>Qrow nodded, and suckered in a breath. He didn’t know if he could ever get used to seeing Clover in pain and struggling, but he’d have to get practice at being <em>normal </em>about it, at least. “So,” he said, a little awkwardly, “iced tea? For the good weather?”</p>
<p>Like a good Mistralian boy, Qrow was soon carefully selecting from his collection of teas and fixing them two tall glasses, flavoured with quarters of a peach and sweetened liberally. Even the good weather wasn’t enough to justify sitting outside though - it was still too early in the year for that - so they ended up parked comfortably on the couch, Clover pulling his laptop out of his book bag and Qrow picking up his guitar.</p>
<p>The date for the gig was set for next month, and Clover currently had tabs open for every social media site Qrow knew of, and then some he didn’t. He was armed with the logins for all of The Witchery’s social media accounts - they had a modest following - and they were quickly brainstorming ideas for advertisement posts. Or, more accurately, Clover was typing away madly, throwing out ideas every so often that Qrow either hummed or grunted at.</p>
<p>For his part, Qrow found himself sliding down on the couch until he was flat on his back, his head dangerously close to resting against Clover’s thigh and his guitar braced over the bottom of his rib cage. His fingers idly found chords and strummed, in a pattern he recognised as the song from the car, and his voice picked out half-remembered lyrics, sounding decidedly throatier in his voice than they had on the artist’s original.</p>
<p>The calm that had settled over the room was only interrupted when Clover quietly said, “You never told me Yang has a prosthetic arm.”</p>
<p>Qrow’s heart did the thudding thing where it felt like it had totally missed a beat, squeezing and fitting in arrhythmia in its fervour to get back into time. He tilted his head back, only seeing Clover upside down, but being able to discern that the younger man was studying a photo frame on the coffee table. It was the newest photo of Tai and the girls, taken by Qrow during the winter holidays, and Qrow let out a reedy breath as he looked between the obvious yellow of Yang’s arm and the faint look of hurt on Clover’s face. Qrow’s stomach dropped.</p>
<p>A million things sprang into his mind, a litany of excuses and half truths. <em>You never asked, it didn’t seem important, </em>he thought, all of it ringing false even to his ears. But then Qrow met Clover’s sea green eyes and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he’d lost the ability to bullshit Clover a long time ago. “I-“ he stammered, then stopped.</p>
<p>Why had he? Why had he unconsciously omitted something as obvious and important as Yang’s disability, especially when it was something so close to Clover’s own heart? It wasn’t <em>that </em>hard for him to put his finger on. He’d known all along that even though he had no difficulty <em>treating </em>Yang the same as every other kid - because Qrow loved her with his entire heart, and that’s what she deserved - it didn’t change the fact that even thinking about Yang’s arm and the accident that had caused it felt like Qrow picking at his worst scabs. The ones that could only ever half heal before he was back with persistence to pick at them again.</p>
<p>He pushed himself up into a sitting position, guitar sliding to the floor, and met Clover head on with an expression of seriousness. “I- I still find it tough to talk about,” he was admitting before he’d even realised he’d drawn breath to respond. “Tougher than Yang does, so I try not to be weird about it in front of her.” <em>Bet you would appreciate the same treatment. “</em>But it was-“ his tone was shaky, but he pressed on, “the same accident that killed Summer.”</p>
<p>Recognition sparked behind Clover’s eyes, and a faint look of shock. “The girl on your lockscreen?”</p>
<p>Qrow shouldn’t be surprised, not really. The guy was sharp as a tack. And, like Tai, Qrow sometimes felt like he wandered around with <em>wounded </em>painted on his forehead in big black letters. “Noticed that, huh?”He intoned, and looked down at the cracked glass that criss-crossed over his lock screen. He ran his thumb over the cracks, and the swish of Summer’s skirt, as a younger, childlike version of himself swung her round and round.</p>
<p>There was a sad smile in Clover’s voice as he said, “She seems like the kind of person you can’t help but notice.”</p>
<p>“She was.” Qrow’s heart squeezed.</p>
<p>The living room was silent but for the ticking of the clock on the wall, and their soft breathing, as both men seemed to search for the right words. Qrow compulsively pulled the guitar back up into his lap, pulling it across his body like a shield. Speaking about Summer with people who never knew her felt wrong on so many levels, because how was he supposed to do her any justice if the other person didn’t know firsthand what an incredible person she’d been? A ballsy pint-sized lawyer who hadn’t taken no for an answer, a woman who watched one of her closest friends abandon their child and whose first response was to roll up her sleeves and ask how she could help. Qrow had watched Taiyang fall head over heels in love with her in real time and his only thought had been that it was the most logical thing in the world to do. She’d loved poetry, and would drink tea with him on a Sunday afternoon and hash out song lyrics whilst he played, then he’d codified it all in a notebook.</p>
<p>A notebook that was now either ashes or worm food, because Summer had been everything, and everything that felt like her had to go after he’d seen her laid out in a coffin, her already pale skin bleached of all warmth. The morticians had done their best to reconstruct her, hide the worst of the damage, but she’d just looked wrong with her face so placid and serene. If they’d known her, they would have known there wasn’t anything placid about her.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you ask me about Summer earlier?” He asked all of a sudden, the lump in his throat catching him off guard. “If you’d seen my phone?”</p>
<p>Clover seemed at a loss for words, his turn to panic internally. Then, he blustered out a disbelieving laugh. “This is going to sound like the most horrible, self-centred thing you’ve ever heard,” he said, not meeting Qrow’s gaze, “but I was scared about what she could mean for me.”</p>
<p>And… well, Qrow hadn’t been expecting that.</p>
<p>All of a sudden, there were flashes of past conversations and odd looks crossing his mind in a slideshow. Oh, gods. “She wasn’t my girlfriend, Clover.”</p>
<p>“No?” Clover said. “Okay. I’m sorry. Sorry for making assumptions,” he said, then cleared his throat. “More importantly, even though I know it won’t make a spit of difference, I’m sorry for you and your family losing her.” He was staring down at his hands on his keyboard in that stilted way that people always did when they didn’t know what to say about Summer.</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Qrow said, even though some days that still felt like a total lie. “We’re doing okay, all things considered. We have each other.”</p>
<p>There was a lull where Clover nodded, cleared his throat and resumed typing. Trying to be respectful in that way that really only made Qrow feel more uncomfortable. Like sidestepping around the massive open gash in his life was going to make it easier, going to make it feel normal. Qrow looked back down to his fingers wrapped loosely around the neck of his guitar, and he tried to place himself and pick out a note.</p>
<p>He abruptly stopped. The only way to feel normal about Summer, about her being gone, was to treat death like it was <em>fucking </em>normal. Which it was. He was single when Summer had been alive, he was single now, and, gods’ honest truth, he was getting a little tired of the eggshells. “There’s, uh-” his voice cracked like a pubescent kid’s. Nice, Qrow. “Nobody in my life right now. Like that, I mean.”</p>
<p>Clover was suddenly flushing beet red, and it brought out his eyes in a way that made Qrow’s heart sing. “Really?” He said quietly, almost in wonderment. “Not even…” Clover nodded his head to the framed picture on the coffee table again. To Qrow’s oldest friend, crouched down and hugging both his daughters to his chest.</p>
<p>Qrow choked on his own spit. It was a rather unattractive sight. “Oh- oh <em>gods </em>no,” he balked. Tried to think if he’d ever even looked at Tai that way in the course of more than a decade knowing each other. If he ever had, he would’ve been drunk or high. Then, he blanched again. “Is that what you thought?” Gods, who else was he fucking in Clover’s head? Was this when Clover told him he was suspiciously close with his boss? “No, <em>no, </em>separate beds, Clover. Go check upstairs if you like.”</p>
<p>The awkward, slightly open mouthed look on Clover’s face dissipated, and he seemed thoroughly satisfied at Qrow choking on his own spit at the idea of sleeping with Tai. He said, in a way that was clearly put-on nonchalance, “me neither… not seeing anybody,” and then went back to work like he hadn’t said anything.</p>
<p>And Qrow… Qrow stuttered to a halt and suddenly realised exactly what the most awkward conversation he’d ever had in his life was about, what they were declaring to each other. What Clover had just made clear to him. And… okay, okay. They weren’t talking about it right now. This wasn’t the time, or the place, and they had shit they needed to do, but… okay.</p>
<p>Okay.</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>Qrow couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even muster a chord. His brain felt like rush hour at a train station.</p>
<p>Clover was single. Clover had flat out asked <em>him </em>if he was single.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys! Hope you liked this chapter ;) it was rewritten a bit because I thought it wasn't gelling properly with the mood in the adjacent chapters, so I hope you like it! Shit's getting real, now ;)</p>
<p>Thank you so much for all the continued support. It really does mean the world, and it keeps me writing even when life gets pretty hectic. All the love &lt;3</p>
<p>kofi: https://ko-fi.com/shannedo<br/>tumblr: https://thursdayseraph.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The plan to befriend the young, quiet, faunus girl in Yang and Weiss’s class had gone well, by all accounts, because that weekend the girls had been invited over to play at the Belladonna house. Mrs Belladonna - Kali, Tai had told him - was also Ruby’s kindergarten teacher, and had invited the youngest Branwen-Xiao Long-Rose along for the playdate as well. A bizarrely childless house had left Tai and Qrow a little lost for the evening, and they’d ended up with a spectacularly unhealthy meal of delivery pizza and non-alcoholic root beer in front of a college football game.</p>
<p>Once Qrow had a healthy little food baby rounding out the front of his t-shirt and he was feeling dopey with drowsiness, Tai had taken it as his opportunity of attack. “Gods, half these kids look like that brick shithouse of a college guy you’re seeing.”</p>
<p>Qrow wasn’t so sluggish and docile that he couldn’t land a sharp kick on Tai’s leg sprawled under the coffee table. Tai yelped in pain. “<em>Seeing? </em>What is this, <em>My Fair Maiden?”</em></p>
<p>“Fine, whatever you guys call it,” Tai rubbed at his ankle, “getting dicked down?”</p>
<p>The root beer being snorted through Qrow’s nose was agony. “Thanks, Tai, you just ruined that one for the entire queer community.”</p>
<p>“<em>Hey, </em>I could be gay.”</p>
<p>“You wear cargo shorts in summer. Not even ironically,” Qrow’s voice was dry as Vacuo. Tai seemed to consider this, looking offended but having no actual rebuttal, and resigned himself to his sad hetero existence.</p>
<p>Qrow mumbled, “and I haven’t been <em>seeing </em>anybody.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“What?”</em>
</p>
<p>“What?” Qrow asked, affronted at Tai’s sharp tone.</p>
<p>“No sex?”</p>
<p>“No sex.”</p>
<p>Tai was giving him a strange look, not unlike the one Glynda had recently where she’d reached out and taken his temperature. “And you’re okay with that?”</p>
<p>Qrow huffed, “What? <em>Yes,</em>” he hissed. He wasn’t an <em>animal, </em>and sex had never even been one of his issues, not <em>really. </em>It had maybe gotten tied up in his self-destructive spirals, but his relationship with sex itself had never been <em>unhealthy.</em></p>
<p>Tai held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, “Okay!” He said. “It’s just… you’ve always been a bit… hump and dump, y’know? You must really like this guy,” Qrow’s face positively <em>burned </em>at that. Ugh, nosey Tai. “Wait, you’ve kissed him though, right?”</p>
<p>Qrow made a face.</p>
<p>“<em>Qrow.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Tai.”</em>
</p>
<p>Tai actually grabbed a pillow and pressed his face into it to groan. “What goes <em>on </em>in your brain?” He grabbed Qrow by the chin and looked right down his ear canal as if that was going to yield any answers. “You think somebody’s good looking and you’re like, <em>hello, </em>my name is Qrow with a Q, I’m the bad boy you fuck if you wanna make your parents mad. You actually <em>like </em>someone and it’s like, I’m good, I’ll just sit in the corner and quietly enjoy your existence for the rest of my life and never ask for anything else.”</p>
<p>Qrow rolled his eyes. “Can you <em>not </em>psychoanalyse me over college football?”</p>
<p>“I have two kids who don’t need to hear about their uncle’s warped relationship with love and sex, when else am I going to psychoanalyse you?”</p>
<p>Qrow groaned, pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “Oh, so I have a warped relationship with love and sex now? You’re being all kinds of normative. Some people don’t experience romantic attraction, Tai. Some people don’t experience sexual attraction, some people experience neither. It’s all healthy and normal.”</p>
<p>“No, I <em>know </em>it is,” Tai scowled at him, pointing his bottle of root beer to make the point, “but <em>you </em>experience romantic <em>and </em>sexual attraction. You’re just insanely bad at acting on the former.”</p>
<p>“Is this the part where we blame everything on my parents?”</p>
<p>“<em>Well-“</em></p>
<p>Qrow cut him off with a pointed finger. <em>“</em>Taiyang, I’m in a good mood, I am <em>not </em>talking about my parents right now.”</p>
<p>Tai sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than it usually was. “Okay,” he admitted in defeat. There were some topics that even Taiyang Xiao Long wouldn’t brazenly rush into head first. There was a pause. And then, “So if you haven’t even kissed him, how do you know he’s gay?”</p>
<p>The laugh that came out of Qrow was more of a squawk. “I just know.”</p>
<p>“<em>How, </em>though?” Tai asked, looking genuinely confused, “is it like gaydar?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Tai, every time I’m near him there’s this high pitched beeping sound in my ear- no, you moron, I can just <em>tell. </em>It’s like-“ Qrow cut off, searching for an adequate explanation, “you know how dogs can’t see a red ball in green grass because their eyes haven’t evolved to tell the colours apart? In the analogy, you are the dog.”</p>
<p>They went on like that for a little while, getting increasingly ridiculous and laughing loud enough to disturb the neighbours. Nine o’clock was fast to approach, though, and before long, they were trekking across the neighbourhood to retrieve the kids.</p>
<p>The Belladonnas stayed in one of the nicer, more ornate houses in the neighbourhood, the ones that were respectable enough to back onto Weiss’s neighbourhood. Ghira Belladonna was some sort of community organiser, Qrow faintly remembered, having heard his name out of Robyn’s mouth more than once in relation to outreach projects. They had a nice, paved path up to a well lit oak door which Qrow politely rapped his knuckles on, faintly worried his rings might scratch the wood.</p>
<p>It was Kali Belladonna, a pretty and petite woman with pierced cat ears who opened the door. She told them the girls had been a delight - and Qrow had no doubt of that, his nieces and Weiss <em>were </em>a delight - but there was a faint look of weariness to her. When the impossibly silent young girl padded up to the front door and peered up at them from behind her mother’s skirt, Qrow was suddenly struck with the thought that Blake Belladonna was definitely a single child, and an unusually quiet one at that. Ruby impersonating the roar of a tyrannosaurus rex in the distance while Yang yammered on incessantly and Weiss answered tersely suddenly explained the slightly tired look on Kali Belladonna’s face. Qrow pressed his lips into a thin white line to hold back a laugh, and Tai called his own rambunctious progeny to the front door.</p>
<p>They politely declined the offer to come in, insisting the Belladonnas had already been welcoming enough, and beckoned the girls outside. To Tai and Kali’s delight, Blake stopped each of the girls on their way out to hug them and thank them for coming over to play. “You can come over to ours next time, Blake,” Tai said with a warm smile, and Blake’s ears folded in a sweet, bashful way at his attention. Qrow quietly wondered if they’d be as well turning the house into a creche.</p>
<p>The walk back to their house saw Yang and Weiss up ahead, under Tai’s watchful gaze as they chatted happily, and Ruby’s hand gripped firmly but not unkindly in Qrow’s. He’d never told Tai what had happened, that first morning before kindergarten, but had exactly zero desire to repeat it.</p>
<p>The Schnee family chauffeurs knew their house and Weiss’s routine well enough at this point that it seemed easier for Weiss to come back to theirs after the playdate and pick up her school stuff. It also allowed another couple minutes’ reprieve from that sad look on her face that she got once she realised that she was going to have to leave her friends again. Qrow wasn’t stupid, he knew the real attachment here was to Yang and Ruby. And too right, his nieces were <em>awesome, </em>who wouldn’t love them? But he harboured the faint hope that maybe he and Tai were making a difference for her too. They both cooked her good, healthy food, maybe not restaurant standard like her chefs would but made with love. Tai played make believe games and hide-and-seek with them in the garden, and Qrow played them music on his guitar in the evening and fixed them hot chocolates with little marshmallows. Their home was warm, smelled like cooking and laundry detergent and plug-in air fresheners, so distinctly <em>unlike </em>the cold and towering mansion three blocks over with the snowflake emblem on imposing wrought iron gates. She seemed genuinely happy here. She smiled and laughed, her tone of voice got a little snooty when she thought Yang and Ruby were being unbearably obtuse about the correct way to spell <em>diplodocus, </em>she got a little huffy when they didn’t watch what she wanted to on TV. Qrow couldn’t help but feel like maybe they could be a <em>home </em>for her.</p>
<p>He was contemplating all that from the couch, watching Yang and Weiss do their homework on the rug, when an SUV pulled up with a screech out front.</p>
<p>There was a pounding on the front door, sharp enough to make Weiss jump, and then Tai was crossing the living room with a confused look on his face. Qrow got up as well and followed Tai, blocking sight of the kids with his body more out of instinct than anything else.</p>
<p>When Tai swung the door open with a frown, Qrow wasn’t glad to see he’d been right to show concern.</p>
<p>Willow Schnee looked about as rough as the only other time Qrow had seen her. Her clothes were rumpled like they’d been slept in, her hair haphazardly pulled into a ponytail. Ice blue eyes were unfocused and ringed with dark circles, and when the door swung open, she took an unsteady, stumbling step backwards. Barely able to stand. Qrow could smell the reek of expensive Atlesian vodka on her breath from here.</p>
<p>It wasn’t <em>that </em>that curdled his stomach, though, it was more the look of unadorned, murderous rage on her face, her slack gaze burning into Tai with cold fury, a sheet of paper crumpled in her grasp. Tai was affronted, but held her gaze with steely determination, waiting for her to speak first.</p>
<p>Qrow threw a look over his shoulder, a look that said <em>no nonsense, </em>and told the girls “Go upstairs.” Although she looked alarmed, Ruby was quick to pick up on his seriousness and nodded. Always the leader despite her age, she grabbed Weiss’s hand in hers, pulling her to the stairs, leaving Yang to trail after them. When Weiss caught sight of her mother, her eyes widened to dinner plates and her shoulders drooped.</p>
<p>Willow wasn’t looking at her child, though, in fact didn’t seem to notice the girls toddling up the steps. She was single minded. She jabbed her hand out, with the sheet of paper crumpled in it, into Tai’s chest. Her cardigan was riding up her forearm and Qrow noticed the purple imprint of fingers with a lurch in his stomach.</p>
<p>“Tai, I can handle this,” Qrow said lowly, stepping forward to put himself between the two. He was better with drunks. He was one himself. At least he’d had the decency to lock himself in his room or stay well away from the house when he’d went on a bender, even if it was selfishly so that the girls wouldn’t look at him any different the next time he showed up to breakfast. “Go check on the girls.”</p>
<p>“It’s <em>him </em>I want to speak to,” Willow said unsteadily, with an undercurrent of venom. Her voice was lower than Qrow expected, sadder. He finally looked down at the paper in her hand, and recognised it as a page from the drawing pad that Tai had brought home from the grocery store. It was folded over into the shape of a card, with “<em>Happy Birthday Mom” </em>written large on the front in Weiss’s neatest hand and favourite shade of blue, and then a message inside. Upon closer inspection he could see Tai’s own neat, teacher’s writing under Weiss’s letters for her to trace. Tai had helped Weiss make her mom a birthday card. Qrow’s heart and stomach clenched all at once.</p>
<p>Tai’s jaw was set in grim determination, and Qrow knew his brother-in-law. He could all but feel the sympathy pangs through Tai’s body at the sight of Jacques Schnee’s handprint on Willow’s porcelain skin, but Tai was also fire and steel, and he wasn’t about to be cowed by a woman who was too drunk most of the time to even know where her children were.</p>
<p>Qrow looked back to Willow, the silence growing tense, and he kept his body firmly between them. “What exactly is the problem here?” he asked, firmly but not harshly. “We’re all adults, I’m sure we can work this out together.” His hands were raised and open palmed, and if he could communicate telepathically with Tai he’d tell him to unclench his fists and jaw, not gestures from a man that Willow would have a good reaction to.</p>
<p>But all his tentative peacekeeping measures were for nought, because as soon as Willow opened her mouth it was like the floodgates opened. “You act so holier than thou, thinking you can raise my daughter and write my birthday cards,” she spat, her eyes livid, “what else do you want? The money? Weiss won’t get a penny until she’s eighteen!”</p>
<p>Tai flinched at that. Not unlike Qrow, the boy who had been humbly raised on the small island of Patch had volatile reactions to wealthy people treating him like something unpleasant they’d stepped in. “We don’t want money,” he said, disgusted, “before she met my girls she was miserable constantly. We want her to not be sad and alone all the time,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world - because it was. “She’s a child, she deserves a safe and happy environment-“</p>
<p>Willow cut across him, her voice rising in volume and venom, her words cutting like knives. “Oh, do not lecture me about safe and happy! Not when those brats of yours have been through two mothers already and their only other caretaker is a violent alcoholic,” she jabbed a taloned finger at Qrow’s chest, “Or did you think I wouldn’t do my research on the people trying to swindle my daughter’s fortune?”</p>
<p>Rage and shame surged like twin beasts in the pit of Qrow’s stomach, his cheeks flushing a violent red, a wave of nausea crashing over him. His eyes narrowed until all he could see was Willow’s white face. She could talk about him and his sister however she liked - they deserved it all and more - but she would keep Summer’s name out of her mouth. He felt Tai pressing a strong, firm hand into his chest. Holding him back, Qrow faintly realised. From what, Qrow didn’t know, and that only made his stomach roll once more. He was going to throw up.</p>
<p>“Go check on the girls,” Tai all but pleaded, “please.”</p>
<p>He didn’t need to be told twice.</p>
<p>He was halfway up the stairs before he’d even noticed he’d moved, and only overheard from the front door, “You’re scaring my daughters, and I am <em>not </em>letting you drive Weiss anywhere when you’re too drunk to stand up straight. You need to get off my property now before I call the police-“ before he was on the landing.</p>
<p>The girls were huddled in Yang and Ruby’s room. Weiss was stubbornly holding back tears, her head tucked into Yang’s neck as Yang ran one arm up and down her back. Ruby was burrowed into Yang’s other side, and holding Weiss’s hand firmly in her lap. Qrow’s heart shattered into a million pieces when he saw them, scared and sad, and it was like nothing had changed since that horrible morning-</p>
<p>Since a Sunday morning, a year ago, when he’d sat on that carpet and sobbed openly into Ruby’s tufted black hair after Tai had gotten off the phone, only calling long enough to tell him Yang was in critical condition and Summer was already gone.</p>
<p>The rage melted out of Qrow’s blood and he got to his knees, pulling all three girls against his chest. The tension seemed to melt out of Yang and Ruby at his touch, but when he pulled back, he saw Weiss staring blankly ahead, a horribly familiar numb look on her face.</p>
<p>The front door slammed shut, the noise reverberating around the house, and then Tai was leaping up the stairs. “Is everyone alright?” He asked breathlessly once he was in the kids’ bedroom and didn’t receive an answer before Yang and Ruby were throwing themselves into his arms. Qrow remained with an arm curled loosely around Weiss’s shoulders, as she stared numbly ahead.</p>
<p>From Yang and Ruby, there had been crying and a lot of questions that Tai and Qrow had struggled to answer. Weiss had only stayed silent, clamming up in a way that settled a lead weight in Qrow’s stomach. The blank emptiness only intensified the shame he felt when he remembered how quickly his hands had curled into fists and his vision had narrowed to a tunnel, his calm evaporating like steam. Well intentioned but ultimately meaningless.</p>
<p>Much later, Yang had insisted on taking the sleeping bag on the floor so Weiss could sleep in her bed - “C’mon, Weiss, it’s a sleepover! This’ll be <em>sooo </em>fun!” She’d chirped with forced levity.</p>
<p>With the girls in bed, Qrow and Tai were left alone on the landing, at the doorway to Tai’s bedroom, staring at each other.</p>
<p>Qrow sighed and dragged a hand down the right side of his face. “She nearly hit Ruby,” he confessed in a low, quiet voice, his stomach weighed down with lead. He felt utterly exhausted, the words so much effort to even force out. “She nearly hit Ruby, weeks ago, in that fucking car.”</p>
<p>Tai nodded. His expression was hollow, his shoulders drooping. He didn’t know what to say, he just nodded.</p>
<p>Qrow sighed, dropped his head and turned to go to his own bedroom.</p>
<p>“You weren’t going to-“</p>
<p>He whipped his head back. His neck twinged. Tai cut himself off.</p>
<p>The blond man took a breath and started again. “You weren’t going to do anything, Qrow,” he said.</p>
<p>The low fear had been pooling in Qrow’s stomach like a poisoned well all night. “Wasn’t I?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that, when I put my hand up,” Tai said. He tugged at his hair. He’d yank it all out before he was forty. “Nobody was going to escalate. It was a shouting match. Maybe the police would have showed up but- that’s all. I just- I had to protect you, that’s all. You’re doing so well. You weren’t going to-“ Tai’s voice cracked then. Thick with emotion.</p>
<p>Would he not have? How quickly had his calm composure went up in smoke? Was he destined to live the rest of his life with exposed nerve endings, with triggers that could wave like red flags in front of his bull’s eyes </p>
<p>
  <em>You’re doing so well. You weren’t going to-</em>
</p>
<p>If Qrow could take it all back, take back every second of agony he’d ever caused the man in front of him, he would. He would, and then some.</p>
<p>He crossed the space between them and bowed Tai’s head against his chest as the larger man’s body wracked with silent sobs.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m so sorry.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m so sorry.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys! Another drop-and-run of a chapter, I'm afraid, but I've been house hunting all weekend and haven't had the chance to get to comments yet! I will get to them soon though, hopefully tomorrow night! I hope you like the update. It's a bit of a heavier one and definitely a family-centric chapter. An important one, but so is next week's! Next week is a doozy ;)</p>
<p>Thanks so much for all the kind words and encouragement &lt;3</p>
<p>kofi: https://ko-fi.com/shannedo<br/>tumblr: https://shortkingkaz.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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